


To a Fault

by Nemi_Almasy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Bodyguard Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Everything is made up and nothing matters anyway, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Playing a little fast and loose with canon here, Slow Burn, Smut, This was just supposed to be PWP and now here we are, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 88,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Almasy/pseuds/Nemi_Almasy
Summary: Tseng has dedicated his life to his work and gladly accepts any mission assigned to him without protest. Well known as the most patient and dedicated Turk under Veld's watch, his patience is quickly put to the test when he's given a new assignment: Rufus Shinra's bodyguard. The President's son seems spoiled and self-obsessed at first, but Tseng quickly learns there's a cunning leader hiding beneath Rufus' shiny veneer.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 318
Kudos: 612





	1. Obedience

Tseng Liu didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if the job called for it, though he preferred a more subtle approach to most tasks. If a mission could be accomplished through cunning or subterfuge, it was a more poetic and satisfying means to an end than brute force - besides, SOLDIER had already staked a claim to thoughtless physical violence and if there was one thing a Turk didn’t like being compared to, it was a SOLDIER.

But some missions required violence, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Blood spatter stained the legs and arms of Tseng’s suit. Against the the jet-black fabric, it didn’t look like anything more than a water spill, but flecks of red were visible on the white cuffs of his shirt where it peeked out from the edge of his sleeves. Slowly, pointedly, he unpinned the cuff links from his sleeve with a disdainful frown.

“I just had this shirt drycleaned,” he said, more to himself than the figure writhing and moaning on the table in front of him.

He rolled his sleeves back to his elbow - one, then the other - then discarded the empty clip from his pistol, sliding a new one in place with a sharp  click.

“PLEASE!” The man on the table screeched. “Oh Gods…please…”

“Begging will get you nowhere, Mr. Henson.” Tseng cocked his gun and pointed it at the man’s left knee. His right knee was nothing but a bloody pulp of skin and bone and fabric from his pant leg. 

Tseng had never cared for the sight of blood. He grimaced as his eyes scanned past Henson’s blown-out kneecap. It had to be done. Henson hadn’t responded to the blackmail Tseng had meticulously researched, hadn’t responded to threats on his life. Men like Henson only responded to one thing.

“Your contact in Wutai?” Tseng asked, smoothing a strand of hair back behind his ear and steadying his gun above Henson’s left knee once more.

Henson only responded with a low, aching wail.

“I’ll give you until the count of ten.”

“Gods, my fucking knee!” Henson shrieked.

“You could still walk out of here. Ten,” Tseng started.

“I can’t tell you! I can’t!”

“You left a sloppy trail, Henson. If not you, someone else will talk. Nine.”

“They’ll kill me…” Tears streamed down Henson’s face, his eyes squeezed shut in agony. “You don’t understand!”

Tseng fired off a shot against the other knee and watched with a mixture of disgust and apathy as the kneecap shattered and splintered in a shower of gore, spattering more blood against his suit. Henson screamed, an agonized moan from deep at the back of his throat, and then his head rolled to the side as he lost consciousness.

It wasn’t of any concern to Tseng why Veld or President Shinra needed the name of Henson’s contact in Wutai - with the war on, there could be any number of reasons. It was above Tseng’s clearance to pry any deeper than he needed to. His job was to acquire the information to protect Shinra’s assets, so that was what he was doing.

He uncocked his pistol and holstered it at his hip, then he slid his arms under Henson’s armpits and lifted him, dragging him to a sink in the corner already filled with water in anticipation of such a situation. Taking hold of the hair at the base of Henson’s skull and holding the front of his chest, he dunked the man’s head into the water and waited.

It took only seconds for Henson to start flailing in Tseng’s grasp, choking and spluttering and struggling against the sensation of water trying to fill his lungs. Tseng flung him to the hard concrete floor of the interrogation chamber and waited while Henson coughed up water and blood. With two shattered kneecaps, all he could do was lie there looking haggard and close to death.

Tseng took a seat on the edge of the table where Henson had previously been and observed him.

“The name?”

“Just fucking shoot me and get this over with,” Henson spat.

“What about this encounter so far makes you think I’ll just kill you and move on?” Tseng asked. “We have excellent surgeons and high-grade materia at our disposal. They could have you patched up and ready for me in a few hours. I could blow those kneecaps out again and again if I wanted to.”

Henson groaned in pain. “And what if I tell you?”

Tseng frowned. “Don’t you think you already know the answer?”

“Then what does it fucking matter one way or the other?”

“Wouldn’t you rather this be over sooner?”

“Fuck you, buddy.” Henson spat at Tseng’s feet, leaving a mess of blood and mucous on the toe of his shoe. 

Tseng flicked his foot with chagrin. “I’ll send my drycleaning fees to your widow.” Then he fired off another shot, this time into Henson’s shoulder and sighed at the sound Henson made.

An important bit of knowledge in any Turk’s toolbelt was exactly where to shoot, stab, or otherwise injure a person without killing them. Nothing was worse than accidentally murdering a suspect under interrogation because you hit a vital organ or artery. It was something they taught every Turk in basic training and drilled through them over and over again. Although Tseng didn’t often find himself in interrogation rooms those days, he still remembered every detail of the neat little diagram of the human body.

“Your contact,” Tseng repeated.

“Fuck President Shinra. And fuck you!”

Tseng rose to his feet and stamped a foot quickly and decisively between Henson’s legs. The air rushing from his lungs was audible.

“That will be my next target unless you speak up.”

“You’re gonna kill me anyway,” Henson hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m not giving up my contact. Wutai will win this war!”

“Such loyalty,” Tseng flexed his fingers, cocked his gun, and shot between Henson’s legs, surprised at how his own shoulders tensed with just a tiny touch of sympathy as Henson screamed - his loudest scream yet, and lost consciousness again.

He waited a few minutes before dunking Henson’s head in the water again. It took him longer to wake the second time, shoving desperately at the sink and at Tseng, splashing water all over both of them. Tseng dropped him on the table after a suitable amount of time held underwater. He would give up the information now: the fatigue on his face was evident.

“I’ll ask again,” said Tseng, standing at the edge of the table. “Your contact.”

“Takahashi,” Henson gasped. “Aki Takahashi. He’s the one who initiated the exchange.”

Tseng waited several seconds until Veld’s voice sounded in his ear. “It checks out. End it.”

Henson was shaking and pale as Tseng pressed the cool steel of his pistol against his temple. “Shinra thanks you for your sacrifice.” He pulled the trigger and the life flickered out of Henson’s eyes as the bullet pierced through his skull and out the other side.

Tseng curled his lip in disgust and holstered his gun, nostrils flaring at the metallic stink of blood and gunpowder. He stepped out of the interrogation chamber to find two security officers and a lower ranking Turk waiting to dispose of the body and hose down the room. He didn’t stick around to help - Veld would be waiting for him in the Turks’ lounge.

As he made his way down the long, narrow hallway, lined with doors leading to other interrogation rooms, with two-way glass windows allowing a front-row seat to the violence, he ignored the anguished wails escaping from the occupied rooms, pushed through the security door, and breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped into the elevator.

An employee in a crisp grey suit was already inside when he stepped in, and he gaped at Tseng for several seconds. No one who worked at Headquarters was naive as to what the Turks got up to, but most of them never saw one fresh out of an interrogation either. Tseng must have been quite a sight to this poor accountant - covered in blood and sweat, hair disheveled. He glanced down his nose at the man, then reached past him to hit the button for the fiftieth floor.

The elevator made its slow ascent upward. The man next to Tseng glanced at him repeatedly and obviously, but Tseng had no interest in making conversation, would probably be reprimanded if he did. The entire building had security cameras and drones in every corner and Turks had a reputation to keep, after all. The elevator chimed as the door slid open on the fiftieth floor and Tseng stepped out without so much as a glance backward at his travel companion.

The entirety of the fiftieth floor had been dedicated to the Turks, which was a source of somewhat childish dispute between the Turks and the SOLDIERS. Shinra’s brute-strength division was housed on the forty-ninth floor, with Heidegger’s office on the fifty-first. Heidegger was loud and vocal that his office should be above his subordinates, which in turn spurred some particularly confrontational Turks to suggest that must mean, by extension, that the Turks were superior to the SOLDIERS housed beneath them. Tseng never involved himself in these arguments - each division had its purpose and utility for the company. There were even a handful of SOLDIERS he could tolerate…but only just.

Through a security door, Tseng stepped into the lounge shared by all Turks. A handful of men and women sat around squeezing a meal between jobs or doing research on the computers in the corner. Another door led to the executive lounge, where only the highest-ranking Turks were allowed access. Tseng had been recently promoted to such status after the untimely ‘disappearance’ of one of the four executive Turks. He didn’t question it, but it still felt taboo to enter the executive lounge.

“Woof,” a whistle sounded from a couch to Tseng’s left. “I’d hate to see the other guy.”

Tseng folded his arms and fixed his gaze on the loud redhead sprawled lazily across the couch. He was all limbs, somehow taking up the entire length of the sofa and then some. If there was one word for Reno Sinclair it was hothead. His motor mouth was half the source of the Turks’ dispute with SOLDIER, something Reno took pride in. He was always up for a fight and jabbering far too frequently for someone whose profession was built around discretion. But even Tseng could admit he was skilled at what he did - that was why he still had a job, even after frequently butting heads with Heidegger.

“Is Veld in his office?” Tseng ignored Reno’s comment.

“How the fuck do I know?” Reno shrugged and fished a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, lighting one up despite policies against these things. He puffed on it, smirking at the irritated look playing across Tseng’s face. “You want one?”

“I’ll pass. You should put that out.”

“Or what?”

Tseng fixed him with a hard stare. For a fleeting moment, he could see the defiance in Reno’s eyes, but he must have thought better of it, because he stubbed the cigarette out against the couch - Tseng sucked a breath through clenched teeth at this - and sprawled back out. 

“Right. You’re the boss now. Sort of. I don’t know where the fuck Veld is, man.” He rolled onto his side and reached lazily for the TV remote on the coffee table. “Tired of the fucking news…”

Tseng swept past him into the executive portion of the lounge. It was empty, but the door to Veld’s office on the northern wall was slightly ajar, and he could hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard from within. He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited for Veld’s approval to enter.

“If the door is open, you don’t need to knock, Tseng.”

“Sir.” Tseng stepped inside quickly.

Veld, the first-in-command of the Turks, sat behind his desk typing with a furrowed brow. He had the constant appearance of exhaustion. He had been first-in-command for the last decade, which may as well have been a century in a Turks’ lifespan - the whims of the president dictated when and how a Turk outlived his usefulness.

“Sit,” Veld said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Tseng promptly obeyed. “Henson has been taken care of.”

“Yes. You did a commendable job.” Veld finally looked away from his computer to meet Tseng’s gaze. “I know interrogation isn’t your favorite method, but men like Henson-”

“I understand, sir.”

Veld leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temple. “The President appreciated the information. Zhou was dismissed this morning due to her…inability to obtain information from a captured Wutai soldier. We’ll be folding Sinclair into the executive group next week.”

“Sinclair?” Tseng focused every ounce of his attention on showing no visible reaction to this news.

“Yes. He’s wrangled more dissidents than any other Turk. I know,” Veld said before Tseng could voice his thoughts, “he’s loud and easy to get a rise out of. If you have a better suggestion, I’ll take it.”

Unfortunately, Tseng didn’t. Sinclair was a good choice to replace Zhou.

He briefly considered Zhou may have been one of the screaming voices sounding from the interrogation chambers he passed. They weren’t really meant to be used for anything other than extracting information, but he wasn’t naive. Heidegger was vindictive - it was open knowledge amongst the Department of Public Safety that he let SOLDIERS do whatever they like with a Turk that had been relieved of duty.

It might be Sinclair’s fate, eventually.

“Reno is a competent Turk. He’s an acceptable choice for the role.”

“Good.” Veld nodded.

“Sir, now that Henson has been dealt with, I’m ready for my next mission. I know there had been talk of sending some Turks in to Wutai…”

“Yes, Heidegger does have plans to deploy some of our men with a handful of SOLDIERS. Grunt work.” Veld waved a dismissive hand. “The President has actually requested you specifically for a personal mission.”

“Me?” Tseng didn’t hide his surprise. 

“Just minutes ago. I called him with the news about Henson and Takahashi. He has a…special case that he’d like a Turk on.”

“I will gladly take whatever mission is assigned to me sir.”

Veld’s mouth turned downward in a frown. He glanced back at his computer, typed rapidly, then looked up at Tseng again. “I’ll brief you on the mission tomorrow. For now, you should go get cleaned up and get some rest. And don’t mention the promotion to Sinclair until it’s official. I have to run it by Heidegger first and it’s going to be an uphill battle.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Besides, it’ll go straight to that big head of his,” Veld muttered under his breath.

Tseng allowed himself a chuckle at this. He stood up, but paused in the doorway. “Sir, could I at least know about the nature of my next mission? As I said, I’ll gladly take whatever is assigned to me, but my skills are better utilized outside of the interrogation room.”

“No more interrogations for now,” Veld promised. “Though, you discount your abilities in that arena. No one else has been able to get Henson to talk. All I will say about this next assignment is that it is an indefinite exercise in patience and subtlety.”

“Sir?” Tseng cocked his head.

“That’s all for now, Liu. I have work to get done. Close the door on your way out.”

Tseng did as he was asked, but his curiosity was piqued. Before the Henson job, he had been on a string of stakeout missions rooting out information on pro-Wutai pockets below the plate, which had ultimately led them to Henson in the end. And in between most of his missions he was in charge of keeping an eye on the ancient girl - something he toed the line with. She had to come willingly anyway, no one ever explicitly told him to be forceful with her and no one would fault him for failing to convince a bull-headed, obstinate teenager to turn herself over to the organization that had murdered her mother. Tseng had no problem breaking bones and putting a bullet between someone’s eyes if they had crossed Shinra, but he did draw a personal line at roughing up innocent little girls.

“You hear about Zhou?” Reno yelled as soon as Tseng was back in the main lounge. Tseng pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at Reno. “That’s a yes. Hate to think what those pricks in SOLDIER are doing to her. But better her than me, right?” Reno was puffing on a cigarette.

Not that he took pleasure in it, but Tseng imagined Reno would meet a similar end eventually.

“Where is your partner? Shouldn’t you be out on a mission together?”

“We’re done, aren’t we?” Reno rolled his eyes. “So knowing him, he’s probably grabbing a drink somewhere trying to chat up the type of chick who could kick his ass if he wanted her to, which you know he does. You into that?” He spoke without stopping to breathe, punctuating the string-of-consciousness with a drag on his cigarette.

“Excuse me?”

“Chicks who could rough you up,” Reno said. He eyed Tseng up and down. “You never do the water-cooler talk thing, man.”

Among the many topics Reno was boisterous about was his purportedly prolific sex-life. Some of the other Turks indulged him in these conversations, but Tseng had never been one to participate. He had certainly unwillingly overheard his share of Reno’s stories.

“What is there to say exactly?” Tseng asked.

Reno stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” He laughed loudly.

Tseng sighed. He didn’t want to be having any sort of conversation with Reno, let alone this conversation. And the smell of blood was still stuck in his nostrils. “Of course I’m not,” he said, mostly because he felt if he refused to address it, Reno would run wild with the idea.

“So it was a simple question. I like it when a chick is a little rough, but not like ‘kick my ass rough’,” he shrugged and glanced at the television, frowned, and flipped the channel. “Just like, tug my hair, choke me a little. You know.”

“I most definitely do not know.”

“ Oh ,” said Reno loudly. “You’re into mushy romance shit.”

“I’m not ‘into’ anything,” Tseng growled. 

“Hey, no one’s stopping you from walking away from this conversation you seem so riled up about.” Reno’s eyes scanned his face. “Can’t imagine you with anybody to be honest. Too uptight and serious.” He scratched his chin. “You ever fool around with another Turk?”

“I’m walking away now, Reno.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Reno scoffed. “Mr. Rules and Regulations Liu. I know some girls in the marketing department who could loosen you up.” He cupped his hands around his mouth as Tseng stalked away from him. “Or guys. Whatever you’re into man. I’ve got experience with both of them.”

Tseng was relieved when the security door slid shut and he could no longer hear Reno shouting after him.

Any Turk knew that romance was out of the question, not that Tseng had ever had any vested interest or grand notions of some great love of his life. The type of debauchery Reno got around to was par for the course for most Turks. They didn’t have time for anything else, and even if they did, Shinra would have stamped out anything serious. The only people Turks could trust were each other - everyone else was a liability.

It felt like an eternity that Tseng was stuck riding the elevator down to the second basement level railway station. He couldn’t recall the last time he had even been home to his apartment. Turks were all provided tiny boxes barely big enough to turn around in in Sector 1, but the higher your rank, the less often you saw home. Tseng had spent most nights sleeping on the couch in the lounge at headquarters, or else on an airship or in a hotel somewhere far away. He didn’t really care for his apartment - it couldn’t even be called a home, but he had the time to return, scrub the blood off of his skin, and sleep in a semi-comfortable bed, so he was going to take the opportunity while he had it.

Tseng had a habit of standing under the water in the shower until it scalded him. It was easy, and in fact sometimes necessary, to cut himself off from all emotion on the job. Letting the water sear his skin, watching little rivulets of pale red run down his body and circle the drain, it made him feel  something , even if it wasn’t necessarily a good  something. He savored it until the water heater suggested otherwise, then he toweled himself dry and fell into the bed, not bothering to dress.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  



	2. The Prodigal Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a little note about this fic for any canon purists, I'm gonna be playing a little fast and loose with canon mostly because the canon ages of some characters are stupid in my opinion. I'll also be sort of cherrypicking aspects of the prequel content of Crisis Core and Before Crisis to fold in and then just sort of make up the rest of it. Hope that's cool!

It wasn’t often that Tseng felt nervous. His job demanded a certain control of emotions, and as a recently promoted top-ranking Turk, he had been in his fair share of meetings with the company’s most important executives. Even Scarlet didn’t scare him - he had learned to dance around her volatile moods easily enough. Meetings with the President, however, were rare enough to inspire some degree of anxiety. Tseng wasn’t exactly a sweating, blubbering mess (leave that display to Heidegger), but an uncomfortable knot had settled in his stomach as he sat in the antechamber outside the presidential office with Veld.

Veld had still not disclosed the assignment to Tseng. ‘We’ll meet with the President first for a briefing. It’s a…sensitive topic.’

The two of them sat in uncomfortable chairs staring at one another. A clock on the wall ticked loudly and Tseng wondered briefly how much time had passed, but he wouldn’t chance a glance if it meant appearing even remotely nervous to his superior. He held himself still as a statue and stared at the wall just behind Veld’s head.

Veld checked his watch and sighed, but said nothing. Cameras and microphones were so ubiquitous in Shinra Headquarters that nowhere was truly safe to voice even the mildest discontent with the President.

“You know,” Veld said after maybe thirty minutes had passed. “Your tell is so subtle, anyone else wouldn’t notice.”

“Sir?”

“Whenever I call one of my subordinates into my office, or into a meeting with their superiors, they all have visible reactions. Even if they try not to, they wear their anxiety in some way or another. Sinclair’s incessant foot tapping…” Veld snorted derisively. “Sweating, wringing their hands, checking the clock. It doesn’t really matter as long as they aren’t doing it with a dissident, but, you know…I take particular pride in my employees who are good at hiding their tells.”

“But you did notice mine?” Tseng asked. He wasn’t even sure himself what had given him away.

“You twist your cuff links every few minutes. Just slight. As though you were simply adjusting your sleeve. Still,” Veld held his hands out. “Easy to miss.”

“I’ll work on it, sir.”

“It wasn’t a critique, Tseng.” Veld rarely addressed any of his subordinates by their first name, but Tseng knew from personal experience that he did so when he was dispensing advice. He took on a fatherly demeanor whenever he did so, announcing the tone shift by foregoing surnames. “We are still human after all. You ought to hold on to some of that humanity. Do you know why I picked you for the promotion?”

_Because I’m good at my job._

“Why, sir?”

“Because you don’t relish in causing suffering. Some of the grunts, they seem to take pleasure in it. But being a Turk isn’t about wanting to inflict pain. It’s about understanding that sometimes, pain and suffering are necessary for the greater good. You’re not shy about your preference for espionage over interrogation. That and your even-keeled patience have made you the best possible replacement for Kinsey. It is also part of why the President chose you for this particular job.”

Tseng knew the types of Turks who relished in causing chaos and pain. They would never make it far up the ranks and they had certainly never earned his respect. They had made it as far as they did because they had one particular skill-set, but they often wore out their usefulness quickly.

“Thank you, sir.” Tseng replied softly. “It is an honor to be chosen by the President.”

Veld made no effort to hide his skepticism at this statement. “I don’t know about honor, but I trust you are the best person to handle this job.”

Another twenty minutes, give or take, passed in silence. Despite his best efforts, the knot in Tseng’s stomach didn’t ease up. Veld didn’t like the mission, whatever it was. Tseng was intensely curious as to just what he would be devoting his efforts to for ‘the foreseeable future’, but his patience had served him well thus far. He would wait.

Eventually, the door to the President’s office opened and Heidegger stepped out, red-faced and wearing a grimace. He looked from Tseng to Veld and let out a bark of laughter.

“So he has one of your best men on the job, does he?” He asked Veld.

“Myself and my subordinates are ever at the President’s disposal.”

“Hm,” Heidegger grunted. “Annoyingly so. The President was pulled into another meeting unexpectedly. Classified,” he said this last part with a pointed look at Tseng, but Tseng didn’t particularly care what the President was doing if it was above his clearance level. He was good at shutting off any curiosity when it didn’t pertain to him - curiosity got lesser Turks killed, and he planned on hopefully remaining at Shinra for as long as Veld had.

“Are we to wait another hour?” Veld asked, exasperated.

“No,” Heidegger snapped. “The President has asked me to escort him. You can take your leave. I’ll brief the boy.”

“ _The boy_ is my third in command,” Veld said, moving to his feet. “And nearly thirty. Just because he is your subordinate doesn’t mean you can’t show at least a modicum of respect.”

“Remember, Veld, you’re also my subordinate,” Heidegger laughed. He had a grating throaty laugh that he used far too frequently. The other Turks had a habit of referring to him as ‘gya-ha-ha’ behind his back. Tseng had even heard Reeve Tuesti use the nickname once.

“Of course, sir.” Veld stood rigid before Heidegger. “Then I will take my leave as you say. Good luck, Liu. I will be in touch should you need any assistance with your new assignment.”

Tseng nodded and rose to his feet. “Thank you, sir.”

Heidegger waited until a few seconds had passed after Veld dismissed himself before he shoved his meaty finger against the elevator call button and folded his arms tight against his chest.

“Veld wouldn’t give me any details of this mission, sir,” Tseng said. “He told me the President would brief me.”

“Better to just jump in head first, kid,” Heidegger grunted, ushering him into the elevator and smacking the button for the fortieth floor.

“The Presidential quarters, sir?”

Heidegger gave a noncommittal grunt and said, “Keep your mouth shut until we get there.”

Tseng did as he was told, but if his curiosity had been piqued before, he was positively burning with interest now. The President most certainly wouldn’t be awaiting them on the fortieth floor, but what would? The entire floor had long ago been converted into two sprawling apartments. The company rumor was that one apartment had been for the President’s proper family, and the other for his mistresses: one reason his deceased wife had reportedly flung herself from the roof of the building several years earlier.

Of course, Tseng didn’t really concern himself with baseless rumors, but it was important as a Turk to be informed about what people were saying.

The elevator opened into a small foyer with two security officers and a security door that required both a key card and fingerprint identification to enter. The security officers opened the door for Heidegger without being asked and he pushed past them, leading Tseng down a short, windowless hallway with a door on either side. Perhaps the rumors about the twin apartments hadn’t been entirely baseless.

Heidegger rapped once against the door on the right and then shoved it open, staggering to a halt just beyond the threshold. Tseng followed and quickly realized why his boss had come to such an abrupt halt.

The President’s son, Rufus Shinra, sat slouched against an expensive settee with his legs spread and a woman kneeling between them, her head bobbing against his crotch. Tseng was so startled and unprepared for the sight that he faltered, his mouth going slack for a moment before he caught himself and straightened up in an effort to appear unaffected.

Heidegger didn’t make any such effort, his face turning a violent shade of crimson.

“How many times do I have to tell you idiots to knock before you come barging in?” Rufus drawled. He was evidently unperturbed by their entrance, except to be vaguely annoyed. He made no effort to stop the woman from her ministrations, but he also didn’t seem too invested in it either.

“You knew we were coming, you little-” Heidegger snarled, spit flying from his mouth as he tried to suppress his rage.

Rufus glanced sideways at the two of them. Tseng had only seen pictures of him before now, but his reputation preceded him. What he had learned about Rufus Shinra during basic training was that he was the President’s only (legitimate) son with his late wife, and that he divided his time between Junon and Midgar. What he had learned from company rumors and the sort of celebrity gossip Reno always had playing in the breakroom was that Rufus was a billionaire playboy who liked to spend his father’s money, create enough scandal to keep his name in the news, and periodically disappear to avoid his father’s ire.

He looked every bit the part: expertly disheveled hair made to appear as though he had put no thought into it at all, but which in reality likely required a great deal of time and money to maintain, roguish good looks, eyes heavy-lidded and appropriately disinterested even as the woman continued sucking his cock without taking any notice of the intrusion.

To her credit, she did almost pull away to get a look at Tseng and Heidegger, but Rufus grabbed her head and shoved it back down.

“No need,” he said softly before focusing a penetrating gaze on Tseng. He looked him up and down and sighed. “You must be my new babysitter.”

Tseng looked at Heidegger for some sort of confirmation. Was this honestly the mission the President had hand-picked him for? Bodyguard work was meant for security officers or, in the President’s case, a lower ranking SOLDIER. It certainly wasn’t Turk territory.

“He was supposed to wait for us here alone,” Heidegger said through clenched teeth.

“Well if you don’t fucking mind,” Rufus said, a harder edge to his voice, “Unless you want to strip down and take your turn next, get the fuck out of my apartment.” His jaw clenched and a barely audible moan left the back of his throat. He tugged on the woman’s hair. “Wait.”

Heidegger grabbed Tseng’s arm in a vicegrip and dragged him back into the hallway, slamming the door behind them.

“That little worm,” he huffed. “If his father was smart, he’d just have him taken care of like he did his wife.”

Tseng didn’t react or respond. Alyssa Shinra’s ‘suicide’ was classified information, and it had occurred long before Tseng was a Turk, but most Turks knew their team had a hand in it. He had never cared to delve further into the question or try to delineate fact from rumor. The fact that Heidegger was dispensing such classified information like it was nothing troubled Tseng, but there was a reason Heidegger focused more of his attention on SOLDIER, shirking the subtle nature required to lead the Turks to Veld instead.

“Am I to…be his bodyguard, sir?”

Heidegger was still moaning and groaning under his breath about Rufus. He didn’t even look at Tseng as he responded. “We’ve exhausted other options. He doesn’t like having a Shinra entourage. He wants to fuck around and make this company look bad…” He glared a hole through the door. “But that’s not the point. Not really,” he added, finally meeting Tseng’s gaze. “The President thinks he’s working to undermine him. We need someone with an actual brain to keep an eye on it.”

So, not a SOLDIER then.

“I’m supposed to root out his allegiance, then?”

“Yes, while making sure he doesn’t get himself killed. If it’s not some anti-Shinra idiot, it’ll be drugs, or Gods know what sort of nasty venereal disease.” Heidegger curled his lip.

“I’m good at my job, sir, but not confident I can prevent a grown man from sleeping with whoever he likes.”

Heidegger let out a bark of laughter. “Haven’t heard a Turk talk like that before.” He smacked Tseng on the shoulder and Tseng struggled to remain upright.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be,” he waved a dismissive hand. “You stay with him at all times. Keep him from getting killed or killing himself. Guard the door if he’s got to fuck around, but vet whoever he’s sticking it in first. There have been plenty of interested parties weaseling their way into his pants to get intel on Shinra.”

“Of course, sir.”

“There’s a room in the apartment for you.”

“Sir?”

“Twenty-four seven, Liu,” Heidegger barked.

A very pronounced and exaggerated moan issued from within the apartment. Heidegger waited a beat, then shoved the door open again. They found Rufus draped dramatically across the settee while the woman wiped visible ejaculate from her face with an embroidered handkerchief. She looked exactly like Tseng figured she would, almost too pretty, like she wasn’t real. Even her face was painted enough to look like a doll. She offered the handkerchief back to Rufus and he curled his lip with disgust.

“Keep it.”

Without a word, she moved past Heidegger and Tseng and saw herself out.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Heidegger said as soon as she was gone.

Rufus stared at the ceiling. “Pride isn’t the word I would use.”

“You know why we’re here.”

“Because my father thinks I need a babysitter even though I’m twenty-three.”

Heidegger bristled. “You’re the president’s son. You are required to have a bodyguard.”

As though it were a great struggle, Rufus lifted his head from the arm of the settee and fixed Tseng with a cold stare. “And this Turk is my bodyguard now? Did you tell him I already managed to get two SOLDIERS killed protecting me? Did he volunteer for this job or did you force him into it? Hm? Or you could answer for yourself, little crow.”

“Your father assigned me to this post, sir,” Tseng steeled himself, careful not to let even a hint of emotion show. Rufus Shinra struck him as the type of man who would take a mile if even an inch of weakness was shown.

“Fine.” Rufus waved his hand dismissively. “If that’s all, then you can leave, Heidegger. I’ll be having a secondary security door installed here so you can’t come barging in anytime you like. If I’m feeling generous, I’ll give the crow clearance. Only if,” his eyes flicked lazily up and down Tseng’s body then back to Heidegger. “Get out.”

“Good riddance,” Heidegger muttered. “Gods help you.”

He slammed the door on his way out.

If Tseng was being perfectly honest with himself, he was positively furious. Furious at the President for choosing someone with his rank and skill set to act as a glorified babysitter to his petulant, spoiled brat of a son; furious with Veld for not giving the President any push back; and furious with himself for the resignation that immediately set in.

His only options were to see the mission through or turn himself over to be tortured and killed once they stripped him of his rank.

For a moment, Tseng stood awkwardly near the door. Rufus stared at him and said nothing until he had the presence of mind to take a seat in a stiff, uncomfortable chair across from the settee.

“Do you have a name, crow, or should I give you one?” Rufus asked.

“My name is Tseng. Tseng Liu.”

“And is this what you dreamed of when you enlisted with the Turks? Hm? Sitting around answering to my whims?” He peeled himself off of the settee and shrugged off the long white trench coat he wore, tossing it on the settee and crossing the room to a bar cart by the fireplace. He poured himself a glass of something - whiskey maybe - and swirled it around before taking a sip.

“My job is to serve Shinra,” Tseng said. “If this is what the President has in mind, then I will fulfill my duties.”

Rufus scoffed audibly, but said nothing. He ran a hand along the ornate marble mantle and flipped the switch to light the gas fireplace.

“My father is an incompetent moron.”

Tseng didn’t dignify that with a response. Privately, he had his own doubts about the President, but it wasn’t something he’d ever give voice to. His job was to carry out the President’s orders whether he agreed with them or not. He certainly didn’t agree with them at the moment.

“Well, do you want a drink?” Rufus turned around to stare at Tseng.

“I’m on the job.” And he didn’t trust Rufus not to drug him in an effort to ditch him.

Rufus shrugged and slouched into an armchair by the fire. “Suit yourself. Welcome to your new life.” He gestured widely to himself.

Tseng had limited sympathy for Rufus Shinra, who seemed nothing but exasperated and bored at the moment. He had everything money and good looks could obtain and yet he was entirely disinterested in all of it. But then he had the revelation that it was very likely an act. If he was really working to undermine his father, it would serve his interests to come off as a spoiled playboy bored by his life of luxury; Tseng tucked that away for future reference.

“I’ll give my father credit,” Rufus said, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Tseng, who remained across the room in the uncomfortable chair closer to the door. “At least you’re nice to look at.”

Tseng tempered any reaction and simply said, “Thank you, sir.”

Rufus laughed and knocked back the rest of his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm writing quite a bit of this right now, so I hope to stay ahead of it and post somewhat regularly. There will be some time skips because I'm hoping to cover basically the entire pre-FF7 timeline more or less. This honestly started as a smut idea and is now turning into like...an actual story so...anyway. Thanks and more soon!


	3. A Test of Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note regarding Tseng's tilak? (This is what it's referred to on the wiki). I don't personally feel comfortable ascribing the religious concepts of a real world religion into a video game and since there is ZERO canon explanation of it to my knowledge, I'm going to call it a birthmark in this fic (it really does look like a birthmark/mole in the remake). Just a heads up for future chapters.

Three weeks with Rufus Shinra had been enough to last a lifetime, and yet, Tseng’s punishment - that was truly what it felt like - was eternal and unending. The first week, Rufus largely ignored him except to look glum and obstinate whenever he glanced his way. The second week, he made several attempts to run and even once tried to jab him with a syringe of something while he slept in a cot outside Rufus’ room. Once Rufus realized Tseng was a more formidable opponent than any of the SOLDIERS he’d had to deal with before, however, he became resigned to his eternal presence and simply dragged him along like a dog wherever his whims took him.

It was the realization that he wasn’t a prisoner, that Tseng was obligated to follow him wherever he went, that tilted the tables in Rufus’ favor, much to Tseng’s chagrin. At night, when Rufus slept, Tseng made attempts to uncover information about what exactly he got up to in his study, but he hadn’t had much luck yet. The rest of the time, he stuck by Rufus’ side, hiding the growing rage welling inside him at the injustice of this idiotic appointment.

This was how he found himself squeezed into the VIP booth at the Honeybee Inn, a honeygirl pressed against him with her breasts spilling out of her costume. Rufus was sandwiched between two of them: a honeygirl and a honeyboy, laughing and drinking while they doted on him and whispered in his ear.

“We can have some fun while Mr. Shinra’s busy,” the girl pressed against Tseng said, tracing a finger along his cheek. He clenched his jaw and glared at Rufus.

The honeyboy latched his mouth against Rufus’ neck. He turned his gaze languidly to Tseng and laughed. “Lighten up, Tseng. Don’t you know how to have fun?”

Tseng swatted at the honeygirl as her hand strayed up his thigh. “I’m just here to protect you, sir,” he said. More than anything he had encountered in his eleven years as a Turk, Rufus Shinra was testing his ability to remain stoic and unaffected. He fantasized about wrapping his hands around Rufus’ neck and choking the life out of him.

And this was only week three.

“You don’t like your company?” Rufus glanced at the honeygirl glued to Tseng’s side.

Tseng had no interest in the Honeybee Inn to begin with - overt displays of sexuality just made him uncomfortable - but he especially didn’t enjoy having this strange woman’s breasts pushed against his chest. He could appreciate a woman’s body aesthetically, but it had never approached even remotely titillating for him. He mostly felt bad for her - the costume looked uncomfortable.

He also wasn’t keen on watching whatever the honeyboy was doing to Rufus. Couldn’t he keep this behind closed doors? No, he was obviously punishing Tseng for having the misfortune of being assigned to this post, hoping that if nothing else worked, forcing him into awkward, uncomfortable situations would break him.

Tseng had tolerated worse, unfortunately or fortunately.

“Do you have to do everything I say?” Rufus asked. His hand slid with zero discretion between the honeygirl’s legs, sliding underneath the bottom of her leotard costume. She let out a startled gasp and suctioned her mouth to the side of Rufus’ neck not already occupied. “You do, don’t you?” There was a maniacal look in Rufus’ cold blue eyes.

“To the extent of my job duties,” Tseng replied tersely, already following where this conversation was going.

Rufus frowned. “So if I ordered you to fuck off, for instance, you could disobey me?”

“If it were that simple, wouldn’t you have tried it by now, sir?”

“Always proper,” Rufus laughed. “What if I ordered you to watch me with these two?”

“I’m not an idiot, sir,” Tseng tempered his tone. “If you’re hoping to make me snap, you’ll have to try harder.”

Rufus eyed the honeygirl, still pawing at Tseng. “Would you prefer one of the men?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I would prefer if you just do whatever it is you came here to do and we could leave… _sir_.”

With a raucous laugh, Rufus leaned back into the booth, one hand still moving between the honeygirl’s legs while she scratched at his chest, the other running up and down the honeyboy’s back. He kept his gaze focused squarely on Tseng. “But haven’t you figured it out yet, crow? I came here just to piss you off.”

Tseng gritted his teeth and said nothing. He would have taken a year’s worth of interrogations over being stuck in that loud, garish club with this brat. But this was his job and the alternative was a bodybag, so better not to let Rufus realize how thoroughly irritated he truly was.

Rufus knocked back one of several drinks littering the table and picked up another as soon as it was empty. Tseng eventually rid himself of the insistent honeygirl when it was clear she wouldn’t be getting any much needed tips that evening if she continued to hang around. At some point, Rufus' friends (ostensibly - Tseng doubted the loyalty of other rich socialites) showed up and more drinks were passed around.

“Who’s the cute piece?” One of the many women who had shown up asked.

She replaced the honeygirl at Rufus’ side, though the honeyboy remained, his hand rubbing against Rufus through the fabric of his pants. Tseng dreamed of murder.

“My bodyguard,” Rufus shouted above the din. “He doesn’t want to be my friend though.” He stuck his lip out in a dramatic pout and several of the women around the table poo-pooed at his feigned sorrow. Tseng clenched his fists under the table until his knuckles were white.

“Does that mean he has a gun and like, beats people and stuff?” A meathead at the center of the booth asked.

“Yes, and he has to do whatever I say.”

Tseng blinked slowly in an effort to clear his head. The relentless pounding beat echoing through the club was driving him insane. The recruits in his training class loved to go out to the clubs when they were given breaks, had dragged him along on more than one occasion, but he hated them even at eighteen, and he positively loathed them at twenty-nine. Rufus didn’t need to know this, however. With some difficulty, Tseng forced the barest hint of a smile.

“I’m just here to keep you safe, sir.”

Rufus’ eyebrows knitted in irritation, which was enough to satisfy Tseng for the moment.

“So you’re having a good time then?” Rufus asked.

“The time of my life, sir.”

Rufus scoffed and pushed the honeyboy off of him, sliding out of the booth. Tseng was quick to his feet, following Rufus as he stalked across the room to the bar, where more men and women in garish outfits danced in little cages behind the bartender. Rufus barked an order and leaned his back against the bar.

“So this is your idea of fun then, is it?” He hissed.

Tseng stood completely still by his side and said nothing.

Rufus glowered across the room at his socialite friends snapping pictures with their phones and guzzling up all the drinks his money had paid for, partaking in lap dances he had also funded. He knocked back the drink he ordered in one gulp and pushed a few strands of sweaty hair from his face.

“Those pricks don’t give a shit about me. They just like me because I used to get them drugs and it’s trendy to plaster my face on their social media profiles.” He barked another order at the bartender.

“Perhaps you should slow down, sir,” Tseng suggested. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I give the orders here,” Rufus growled as he jabbed a finger against Tseng’s chest. He knocked back the next drink just as quickly and stumbled away from the bar.

“Sir,” Tseng repeated. He grabbed Rufus’ arm to keep him from sprawling face first onto the sticky bar floor.

“You’re a real piece of work.” He glared at Tseng, then leaned his weight fully against him. “Take me home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rufus Shinra didn’t ride the train. Even if he wanted to, it was a matter of safety to avoid public transportation. So Tseng hailed a helicopter as he dragged a now very inebriated Rufus from the bar, past his so-called friends, who took no notice of his disappearance, out into the comparatively cool air of the side alley. The air beneath the plate was always at least a little hot and stagnant, but it was still an improvement over the positively sweltering atmosphere of the club.

Next to Tseng, Rufus tottered back and forth, struggling to maintain his balance. Without warning, he leaned forward, bracing himself against his legs, and wretched onto the ground. Tseng grimaced.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Just fucking peachy,” Rufus spat. He wretched again and then stumbled backward away from the pile of sick he left behind. Tseng offered a hand to steady him and he swatted it away.

Personally, he would have thought someone like Rufus Shinra would be able to hold his liquor better than that. He locked that away as well. One more tiny scrap of evidence that perhaps his little playboy routine wasn’t all it appeared to be.

When the helicopter arrived, it took some effort to lift Rufus into his seat and buckle him in, his head rolling from shoulder to shoulder as he slurred insults at Tseng, who was frankly being nicer and gentler than Rufus deserved at the moment. Tseng took a seat across from him and shoved a bottle of water into his hands.

“Drink. _Sir._ ”

“Fuck off.” But he sipped moodily at the water anyway.

By the time the helicopter landed at headquarters a short ten minutes later, Tseng had to lift an unconscious Rufus from his seat, cradling him uncomfortably against his chest, struggling to hit the buttons on the elevators and swipe his card at every security access point to get this giant man child home and into his bed. To his utter embarrassment, he encountered Reno in the elevator.

Reno let out a low whistle. “Heard you got this gig, but I didn’t totally believe it.”

Tseng hitched Rufus up, his arms shaking under his weight. “Nice to see you too, Reno.”

“You heard I got promoted, right? Rude’s up next if Pella ever kicks it.”

“Reno,” Tseng hissed.

“I know, I know, you’re technically still my superior. But,” he gestured broadly to Rufus. “You’re the one babysitting the President’s son while I’m out doing actual work. Who did you piss off to get stuck with this gig anyway?”

Tseng had often wondered that as well over the last three weeks. Reno ran his mouth at Heidegger and the SOLDIERS every chance he could get and it earned him a promotion and several high-profile missions. Tseng extracted vital information from a Wutai sympathizer and now he was stuck taking care of a drunk idiot with specks of puke on his shoes.

“If you get tired of it, I’ll pop one right between your eyes for you, man, make sure SOLDIER doesn’t get the chance.”

Tseng gave Reno a withering look. “Thank you for the kind gesture.”

“Anytime, man.”

The elevator stopped at the fortieth floor and Tseng carried Rufus through the security doors and down the hall to his apartment, kicking the door open with a great deal of difficulty and depositing Rufus on the settee. His arm slumped off the edge and for a moment Tseng wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing, but then he let out an earth-shattering snore and rolled onto his side.

Slumping into the chair that faced the settee, Tseng kicked off his shoes and rubbed his temple. This was easily the worst night so far of his stint with the President’s son and he was afraid it may have done nothing but egg him on to try something even worse. How long could one man’s sanity reasonably last?

Of course they had picked Tseng for this job. He was the only one patient enough to put up with such unmitigated bullshit.

He watched Rufus sleep and considered throwing him, clothes and all, into the fireplace. He thought better of it, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time has no meaning in this quarantine and this is a relatively short chapter so why not post it right? I have gone a little crazy writing this fic and am now several chapters ahead so I'm just gonna post them whenever, probably semi-frequently. I've also had some wine so excuse my rambling. Thank you so much to everyone who read and left comments! I really am so excited to find other people who love this ship because I've fallen very deeply into it. More soon!


	4. Lapdog

After the disaster at the Honeybee Inn that culminated in Rufus Shinra puking his guts out in the alley, Rufus had apparently given up on torturing Tseng in favor of ignoring him once again. He went about his business, frequently locking himself away in his study, and Tseng gave him whatever space he needed within reasonable limits. He was cagey about whatever it was he got up to in his study - he didn’t trust Tseng, or anyone loyal to his father - which only furthered Tseng’s suspicion that Heidegger was right about his attempts to undermine the current President.

He reported back at regular intervals to Veld, but Rufus had heavy security on the computer in his study and Tseng had yet to crack it.

‘He is likely funding some sort of anti-Shinra operation,’ Tseng’s report read. ‘Beyond that, my information is limited.’

Veld’s reply had been cryptic.

‘It is important to remember that sometimes even dogs must question loyalty to a poor master.’

What that meant, Tseng hadn’t quite pieced apart.

Rufus had a ‘guest’ over that evening, which was as close as he got to torturing Tseng after more than a month of his presence in the apartment. Tseng stayed by the door in the sitting room whenever Rufus was with someone in his bedroom - as far as he could reasonably get from the bedroom - but Rufus made no efforts to close his door or stay quiet. Moans and wails issued from the bedroom, the creaking of the bed frame, suspect buzzing, and all manner of other sounds. Tseng wouldn’t describe himself as vain, but he had to wonder if some of the excessive noise wasn’t intentionally to get a rise out of him.

At its best it was annoying to have to listen to: distracting. Tseng couldn’t even use the time to snoop around Rufus’ study because it was directly across from Rufus’ room. So he sat in the chair by the door in the sitting room and tried to read Veld’s group-wide updates while Rufus’ moans filtered into the room from the hallway.

He didn’t want to imagine what was happening in there, but his brain filled in the gaps anyway. Tseng had seen more of Rufus than he’d bargained for over the last couple of months, enough for his mind to go wandering at the sensual sounds issuing from the room. Whether he truly wanted to consider Rufus Shinra in the throes of sex or not, it was worming through his brain all the same. There was no denying Rufus was attractive, even if Tseng hated him more than any person on the planet on most days.

Sometimes he still considered tossing Rufus into the fire while he slept.

After frankly too long had passed, Rufus and his guest emerged from the bedroom. Rufus wore a plush robe tied loose around his waist, loose enough that it only really covered the most essential part of him. He walked the man to the door and pushed him out without so much as a goodbye.

Tseng stared intensely at his phone.

“Something on your mind, Tseng?” Rufus asked, sauntering across the room to his bar cart and pouring himself a drink.

“Just catching up on e-mail.”

“Wouldn’t this whole arrangement be better if we were friends?” Rufus carried his drink to the armchair by the fire and fell gracefully against the back, sipping slowly as he watched Tseng.

“Are you usually friends with your bodyguards?” Tseng chanced a glance up from his phone. Rufus had one bare leg draped over the arm of the chair, his robe just covering his groin.

“I had the last two killed, so no,” he shrugged. “But you’re clearly going to stick around and I haven’t been able to outsmart you yet, which was probably my father’s plan all along choosing such a high-ranking Turk. If I’m going to be stuck with you for the foreseeable future, it would be better spent amicably than with you glowering at me like that.”

For once, Tseng did a poor job of hiding his emotion. “I’m not glowering.” He paused, then added, “Sir.”

“You are. I know I irritate you. The feeling is mutual, though. You don’t want to be stuck wasting away in this bullshit job, I don’t want you watching over me constantly. Yet neither of us has much of a choice in the matter, do we? If you protest to your superiors, my father will have you killed and then I might be stuck with that miserable bastard, Sinclair.”

“You’re familiar with Reno?”

“Unfortunately,” Rufus sighed. He set his drink down on the end table next to his chair. “I’m not asking you to be my best friend. Just…not my enemy.”

That was easier said than done when Tseng’s entire mission was to root out just what exactly Rufus Shinra was up to and put an end to it. Tseng didn’t trust it as anything more than a ruse to let his guard down.

“My job is to protect you. I’m not your enemy.”

“You just do whatever your told, don’t you?” Rufus rolled his eyes. “Do you ever use your brain to think for yourself? If my father asked you to jump off of a building would you do it?”

“I follow orders. That’s what any good Turk would do.”

“Are you always this willfully obtuse?” Rufus huffed. “Or is it just with me?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Never mind!” He swept off the chair and out of the room, back down the hallway to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him as he went.

Of course Rufus Shinra wouldn’t understand what it meant to blindly follow orders - he had never had to follow single order in his life. His entire existence revolved around throwing his money at his problems and doing his best to irritate his father and anyone who had the gall to work for him. How could he ever understand the kind of discipline it took to be a Turk? If Tseng didn’t follow the President’s orders without question, there was a bullet waiting for him…or worse.

Tseng remained in the sitting room for a long while after Rufus stormed out, staring at the fire. He kept thinking about Veld’s cryptic message, and his true goal in acting as Rufus’ bodyguard. A month of fruitless frustration was already grating on his nerves. It could be months more, years maybe, until he got the information he was after. Would the President even be patient enough to wait that long or would they dispose of Tseng if he failed to turn up the necessary information?

Why the hell had he been saddled with this job?

Thinking about the injustice of it all only filled Tseng with pent-up frustration. Whenever he hit a wall like this with a regular mission, he typically made a trip to the employee gym to release some energy while he thought through the issues. That wasn’t an option as Rufus’ bodyguard, but Rufus had his own private gym in the apartment (because Gods forbid he exercise around the peons). Going for a long run would clear Tseng’s mind and help him figure out how to proceed.

He passed Rufus’ room, pausing for a moment to listen for any evidence, but not a sound came from within, so he continued on to his own room, changed out of his suit, and made his way back down the hall to Rufus’ impressive personal gym.

Tseng could happily run for hours. He found it relaxing, and useful for teasing apart complex issues in his brain. He would have preferred a run out on the pavement around Sector 1, but a treadmill was better than nothing.

He wondered what Rufus’ end goal was in funding these militant groups - if the concerns were indeed well founded. Ultimately, wouldn’t it be his company he was harming in the long run? Did he just want to make his father look like an incompetent fool who couldn’t handle insurgency?

The sooner Tseng got the information the President wanted, the sooner he could be reassigned to a more important mission. What would the President do when his son was found out? Lock him in a cell? The idea was frankly appealing, but Tseng wasn’t an idiot. Rufus would most likely be placed on house arrest, so that he couldn’t be a nuisance anymore, but he would never truly be punished for anything he did.

Tseng lost track of time as he ran. It felt good to sweat. He tried to exercise daily, but it had been difficult with Rufus intentionally disrupting his schedule for the last several weeks. Nothing took care of pent-up energy quite like a good run…except maybe sex, but Tseng didn’t want to dwell on how long it had been since _that_ had happened. Who even had the time with a job like his?

Well, Reno certainly seemed to.

He only stopped running when his legs began to ache from the exertion, then he slowed to a walk to cool down before resolving to take another crack at the computer in Rufus’ study. Wiping some of the sweat from his face with a towel, he stepped quietly out of the gym and into the hallway, careful to move slowly to avoid any creaking floorboards.

Both the door to Rufus’ room and the study were closed and for a moment Tseng stood stock still, listening for any sounds in either room. He heard nothing and, satisfied that he had a little time to root around, he picked the lock to the study door as quietly as he could, opening the door a hairs breadth at a time to keep it from making any noise.

He stepped into the pitch-black room and the light within turned on suddenly, violently blinding Tseng. He blinked stars from his eyes, his heart pounding rapidly in his ears, and when his vision cleared he saw Rufus Shinra reclining in his desk chair in nothing but his underwear with a modified sawed-off shotgun trained directly on him.

How had he been so stupid?

Tseng froze in place and for a moment the two of them stared at each other wordlessly. Rufus was wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Were you looking for something?” He asked.

Tseng’s gaze was focused on the shotgun.

“I’ll give you credit,” Rufus said. “You were discreet every time. And you had to know my father didn’t allow any cameras to be installed in his apartments. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t put my own in.”

He nodded to the corner and Tseng followed his gaze. The camera wasn’t visible, but there was a knot in the wood where it must have been. Tseng was furious with himself. No good Turk allowed himself to be caught like this, and by this spoiled brat, no less. What would he tell Veld? It was an utter embarrassment. He’d be finished.

“So why haven’t you shot me yet?” Tseng asked.

Rufus smiled and stood up, keeping the shotgun trained on him. He gestured to the now empty chair. “Sit.”

Tseng obeyed.

Instantly, Rufus had the muzzle of the shotgun pressed against the underside of Tseng’s jaw. He leaned in, too close for Tseng’s comfort, and the smirk slid off of his face. “Let’s not play pretend that we didn’t both realize what was happening when you showed up. My father wants to root out my loyalties, so he sent one of his most loyal little lapdogs to sniff around and find some evidence. He already tried it with the SOLDIERS that came before you, but those idiots didn’t have two brain cells to rub together between them. You’re harder to break though. I know you’ve been snooping around in here and you haven’t been able to get what you want.”

The cold metal of the shotgun dug into Tseng’s skin, but he held Rufus’ gaze.

Rufus moved his face next to Tseng’s, so close that his lips tickled against Tseng’s ear as he spoke. Tseng felt an unwelcome pull at his bellybutton and a little shiver ran down his spine.

“Would you like me to give you what you want, Tseng?” Rufus whispered.

Tseng’s entire body was tense. He was acutely aware of how warm Rufus’ was against him.

Rufus took a step back and set the shotgun on his desk. He gripped Tseng’s chin, his nails digging into the skin. “Don’t get any ideas about pulling out that pistol of yours.” He let go and leaned over Tseng to reach the computer on the desk, typing rapidly and clicking until a secure folder popped up full of thousands of images and documents.

Tseng stared at the computer, then Rufus, then the computer again.

“Sir?”

Rufus scoffed and took another step back. “Gun to your head and you’re still calling me sir.” He eyed Tseng for a moment, then picked his gun up off the desk and moved toward the door. “Take a look. The evidence is all there: every damning scrap of it. I’ve been funding anti-Shinra terrorist organizations. The trail is well covered. It would have taken you years to trace any of the money back to me.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Tseng asked. “You know this was my mission.”

“I have a new mission in mind,” Rufus said, leaning against the door frame. “But you have to make a choice, and you don’t seem particularly adept at utilizing your free will, so it might be hard for you.” He stared at Tseng for a moment before he continued. “You could take all that evidence to my father and turn me in. I won’t fault you for it. Or you could take a look at what I’m capable of and realize I’m better suited to run this company than my incompetent father. You could switch sides: help me get what I’m after.”

“That’s treason.”

“Yes. Very astute.”

Tseng looked from the computer to Rufus. His job was to carry out the President’s orders: that was it. He shouldn’t have even considered the offer. But he was too curious about the contents of the computer…curious too about Rufus, whether he would admit it or not. He was clearly capable of more than he let on if he had managed to trick a Turk. And it was true that his father was not what anyone would call a stable leader these days.

“You’re considering it.” Rufus laughed and turned out the door. “Come find me when you’ve made your decision.”

There was a knot in Tseng’s stomach. What was he doing? The only solution was to take the information and turn it in to Veld, wasn’t it?

‘Sometimes even dogs must question loyalty to a poor master.’

Was Veld really suggesting Tseng commit treason? If he were caught, he could end up in a body bag. He harbored no naive notions that Rufus Shinra would extend his influence to help save him if it came to that.

He opened the first document on the computer and scanned through it. Then another. And another. Rufus was right, it was all there. Dozens of foreign bank accounts funneling money to groups on the western continent and in Wutai. Twenty different intermediaries to get the money from point A to point B. He had meticulously documented everything, kept it in his back pocket, and the whole time he’d been running around Midgar and Junon acting like a vapid socialite, loud and obvious about throwing his money at lesser endeavors. It really would have taken Tseng or any other Turk years to find the sources that received the money and trace them back to Rufus in any meaningful way. They certainly never would have amassed even half the information now sitting at Tseng’s fingertips.

Rufus Shinra had given Tseng a bullet and left it up to his discretion how to use it.

What would turning it in really get him? A pat on the back from Veld, perhaps a reluctant compliment from Heidegger. The President wouldn’t take any notice of it except to deal with Rufus. He would sever the funding, lock Rufus away in his comfortable apartment, and go on chucking money at useless endeavors like the neo-Midgar project.

Tseng could only tolerate Rufus on a good day, but that was before he’d seen the evidence of his cunning laid out before him like this.

He couldn’t say how long he sat in the study reading through documents, turning over all the potential options in his mind - hours and hours - but eventually, he shut the computer down and moved from his chair on stiff legs, across the hall into Rufus’ room where he lay sleeping in his bed.

The room had floor to ceiling windows which afforded the best view of Midgar in the city. Tseng slumped into a chair by the window and stared out at the upper plate as dawn began to creep over the horizon. If he did this, there would be no going back. He would have to be all in, or it would be an unmitigated disaster. It felt like a betrayal, but he was almost certain it was the path Veld wanted him to take. More than that - perhaps selfishly - it was the path _he_ wanted to take.

The bitterest pill to swallow was that his loyalty would now be wholly dedicated to Rufus Shinra.

Rufus stirred as the light filtered through the window and crept over his eyelids. He apparently hadn’t lost any sleep over the possibility of being turned in to his father. He sat up, glancing out the window before acknowledging Tseng’s presence.

“I suppose you’ve made your decision?”

“Yes.”

Sliding out of his bed, Rufus padded barefoot across the marble floor and stood in front of Tseng. He gripped Tseng’s chin, forcing his head up to meet his gaze.

“What will it be?”

“I’m not turning you in,” Tseng said, taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. “I’ll help you.”

Rufus dropped his hand to his side and smirked. “Good dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jason medoza voice* Oh, Tseng, we're really in it now. 
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who has been reading and also thank you for the lovely comments! There seems to be small but (thankfully - I love you all) vocal/active group of tseng/rufus fans. (There are dozens of us...DOZENS!) 
> 
> More soon!


	5. Stiff

The first order of business upon committing treason against the President of the Shinra Electric Power Company was to pretend it wasn’t happening. Everything was just business as usual. Meetings and a party thrown by a famous actor drew Rufus away from Midgar to Junon and wherever Rufus went, Tseng went - partially to avoid arousing any suspicion in Tseng’s superiors and partially because Rufus demanded it either way.

They sat in his office at the Junon branch of Shinra Inc, overlooking the planet’s largest mako cannon, and the great sea dividing the major continents. Rufus stood by the window with his shoulders squared and his hands behind his back observing the sun glistening on the water while Tseng was stuck behind the desk typing up a report to Veld.

“Make sure you tell them you’re still looking for information. They won’t trust you if you say you’ve done all you can.”

“I should think I know myself better than you do, sir,” Tseng replied tersely.

Rufus laughed and turned away from the window. “You don’t have to come to this party tonight, by the way. I can handle myself. I never needed bodyguards until my father decided he wanted to snoop around in my personal business. I’ll keep my shotgun handy.”

Tseng glanced up from his computer and pressed his lips into a thin line. It was his duty as a bodyguard, and a member of Shinra’s overall security team, to investigate any person his charge was planning to associate with. He had done it, on Heidegger’s suggestion, for every single ‘guest’ Rufus had dragged through his apartment, and he had certainly done it for the guest list for the party that evening.

“There are a number of actors and musicians with pro-Wutai leanings attending this party,” Tseng said. “I would feel better if I were there.”

“I’m touched.” Rufus stood behind him and read the report over his shoulder. “A few weeks ago you seemed ready to snap my neck.”

“My job and my personal feelings are two different things.”

Another bark of laughter from Rufus. He clamped his hand down on Tseng’s shoulder and Tseng immediately tensed. Rufus had a habit of grabbing his shoulder or lightly touching his back while he was talking to him. It wasn’t exclusive to him, of course. He was physical with almost anyone he was engaging in conversation with, but it still made Tseng’s muscles tense whenever it happened. Maybe it was because he was so touch-starved. The only time he was interacting with anyone physically was when he was interrogating them. He didn’t want to dwell on how long it had been since he’d felt any other kind of touch.

“So tense,” Rufus noted.

His fingers squeezed against Tseng’s shoulder again, a few times, as though he were teasing out a knot. Eventually it was too much. Tseng couldn’t concentrate. He swatted Rufus’ hand away as politely as he could manage.

“Sir.”

“Let me read the report when you’re done. I might want to embellish it a bit.” He took a few steps away from the desk and pulled his phone from a pocket within his coat. “Stocks are down. Wonder what garbage my father spewed to cause that.”

“Wutai led a successful attack yesterday. They overtook a Shinra foundry in the Northern Jungle,” said Tseng, who had already read the news as soon as he awoke. It was important to be on top of things.

“Tch,” Rufus slumped into a chair by the window. “This stupid war can’t be over soon enough.”

“I would think you’d be happy about it. It makes your father look bad.”

“It’s also funneling millions of gil out of the company. Wasteful.”

“Most wars are.” Tseng shrugged. He was only invested in Shinra’s success because a win for Wutai could lead to more uprisings. The war was about making a point, and after nearly a decade, he wasn’t entirely sure what the point was anymore. Wutai had achieved quite a few victories in the last year or so, but Shinra was still winning the long game. It would be over soon, if he had to guess.

Rufus’ phone chirped to announce an incoming text message. He glanced at it and rolled his eyes.

“I should have learned long ago not to give my number to one-night stands.”

Tseng provided no commentary. He stared at his computer screen and tried to finish his report.

“I don’t even remember this woman,” Rufus huffed. “I suppose you don’t have this problem, do you?” He glanced at Tseng and raised his eyebrows.

“Sir?”

Rufus draped his legs over the arm of the chair and tapped on his phone. “Why do you continue to act so obtuse? Just answer the fucking question.”

“I don’t give my phone number to anyone outside the company, sir.”

“Of course you don’t. How do you handle it then, hm? I know Sinclair spends half his paycheck at the Honeybee Inn because I used to see him there when I still frequented it,” Rufus sighed. He swiped through his phone with a disinterested look. “But you seem too straight-laced for that. Some of the SOLDIERS use the interrogation rooms.” He grimaced. “Walking masses of masculinity complexes, aren’t they?”

“Sir,” Tseng said. He had finished his report, but he continued to stare at the screen.

Rufus liked to prod with awkward questions, which Tseng had previously mostly ignored, but the realization was sinking in that this was Tseng’s life - of his own choice now - for possibly the rest of his career, depending on how everything continued. Rufus had asked him before, with at least some sincerity, why they shouldn’t be friends. He had a hard time finding common ground with the man, but Rufus was right - he didn’t need to deflect all the time.

“Even Veld got around to things at some point. He had a daughter, you know.”

“Yes.”

“So what does Tseng Liu do with his spare time?”

“I rarely have any.” Tseng folded his hands in front of him on the desk.

Rufus shot him a dangerous look. “So you’re just a pure little monk living in Shinra Tower devoting your life selflessly to my father…well,” he laughed, “to me now.”

“No.”

“You aren’t interested in women, are you? I could tell. At the Honeybee Inn.”

“No,” Tseng agreed.

“Hm,” said Rufus without any emotion. He scrolled through his phone some more and sucked in sharply when his phone chirped again. “This stupid woman…” He looked back up at Tseng, “…but you are interested in men?”

“Yes.”

“You’re so loquacious, Tseng. Did they teach you that in Turk Academy? You could answer me with more than one word. I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t often find myself discussing my sexual preferences with others, sir,” Tseng responded.

“Sorry,” Rufus said without any hint of meaning it. “If I’m curious about a subject, I ask. Most people don’t refuse to answer.”

“You should have hired Reno, perhaps. He would discuss this topic with you at length.”

“Yes, I’ve had this conversation with Sinclair. As I said, we’ve run into each other from time to time. Annoying little rat.” Rufus stretched his legs out further and pocketed his phone again, resting his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Good at his job, I suppose. He never hesitates to voice his opinions, even to me, but it’s especially enjoyable when he’s directing them at Heidegger.”

Tseng did a poor job of hiding his smirk at this.

“Ah, he can smile,” Rufus grinned. “You don’t care for Heidegger either, I take it?”

“My opinions on Heidegger don’t matter,” Tseng said. He stepped back from the desk and gestured to the chair. “My report is ready if you would like to read it before I send it to Veld.”

Rufus hopped to his feet, touching Tseng’s back lightly as he scooted past him, which caused him to tense involuntarily yet again. He stood a respectable distance away from the desk while Rufus read over the report, made a few edits, and hit send without consulting Tseng on the changes.

“Sir-”

“It’s fine,” Rufus interrupted. “It will keep them off our trail.” He glanced at his watch and tapped Tseng’s arm. “Come along. I’ve got a meeting to be at.”

* * *

The afternoon was spent in a series of meetings in questionable locales around Junon: seedy bars and pay-by-the-hour motels where Rufus met with contacts who helped him distribute his money to groups across the sea. Tseng was deeply concerned that Rufus had heretofore been attending these meetings with absolutely no personal entourage or backup to speak of. Likely because of this, the contacts eyed Tseng with distrust, but there were thankfully no incidents.

It became quickly evident that Rufus was exceptional at hiding his tracks. He spent no fewer than three hours covering up the meetings he attended and the money trail, documenting the cover up at every step and storing it away on his highly secure hard drive. He was meticulous. Watching him work, it was hard to imagine he was the same man who, just a month earlier, had vomited all over his shoes in the alley of a strip club. It forced Tseng to see him in a new light.

“This party tonight is for show,” Rufus said, staring at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie.

They were in his apartment in upper Junon, one of many apartments he seemed to own. Of course, Tseng supposed he owned half the planet with his family name.

“I understand,” Tseng stood by the window and looked down at the busy street below. “Pretenses.”

“Exactly. Though if I’m lucky I might get laid too. I could use it after today.”

Tseng said nothing. He considered that yet again, he would be stuck watching the door while Rufus Shinra had extremely loud, raucous sex one room over.

A year and a half. That’s how long it had been since Tseng had slept with anyone.

“You know,” said Rufus. “Just because you’re on the job doesn’t mean you can’t do the same. Lots of attractive young men come to these parties. They’re vapid and naive, but they’ll find you mysterious and intriguing because you’re a Turk. Shinra just oozes sex appeal to these idiots.”

“I can’t afford to be distracted on the job.”

Rufus fixed him with a withering look. “Whatever excuses you want to make.”

This made Tseng bristle, mostly because it was too on the nose. Rufus Shinra barely knew him and he could already peg him that easily? He often made excuses for why he couldn’t enjoy himself, why he couldn’t relax - part of why it had been so long since he had done so. But this was a valid excuse wasn’t it?

He shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t bringing anyone home from this party because he knew exactly what types of people awaited him there.

* * *

They arrived to the party fashionably late, Rufus in a crisp white suit, Tseng still in his uniform. The actress owned a penthouse condo in the north end and it was filled to the brim with young, beautiful people desperate just to breathe the same air as someone famous. Heavy security greeted them and protested their weapons at first, but when they realized it was Rufus Shinra they were dealing with, they backed away and allowed the two of them to enter, weapons in tow.

Thankfully, it wasn’t loud club music that greeted them, but light crisp jazz drowned out somewhat by the noise of so many people. Tseng put a respectable distance between himself and Rufus as they walked through the party, allowing him to get a decent view of his surroundings while Rufus chatted.

Everyone wanted to talk to him, but none of them wanted any information beyond surface level. Half of them just wanted to snap a picture so they could prove to everyone else that they met the Rufus Shinra. Rufus smiled and posed, handling it all with the sort cocky smirk that put his face on the front of so many tabloids. It was remarkable that this was the same man who, a few hours earlier, had been shrewdly negotiating an arms deal for a terrorist organization.

Tseng watched the socialites with disdain. How did Rufus tolerate it? He supposed he had to, being the President’s son - he had appearances to keep up. Tseng would have hated that kind of life. That was why Rufus was standing in a throng of people with a woman hanging on his arm while Tseng stood by the window alone.

To his surprise, after a while, Rufus came to stand next to him, a different woman on his arm by then.

“Why don’t you have a drink and relax?” Rufus asked. “Or have you identified some serious threat?”

“Nothing yet.” Tseng squared his shoulders.

“Who’s the cutie?” The petite woman clinging to Rufus asked. “Got a friend who’s really into guys from Wutai.”

Tseng pursed his lips and Rufus cringed, shaking his arm free of the woman and sipping his drink with an irritated scowl.

“What?” The woman balked.

“Fuck off,” Rufus hissed. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and sauntered off to find someone else to hang on. When she was gone, Rufus turned to Tseng and said. “My apologies.”

Tseng laughed. “That’s hardly the first time someone has said something like that to me, sir.” And he had heard far worse from interrogation subjects, all manner of slurs. He appreciated Rufus’ sentiment nonetheless.

“Still.” Rufus scanned the room. “Plenty of other fish in the sea.” Tseng followed his gaze to a lithe man in a slim blue suit. “What’s your type, Tseng?” He asked as he swirled his drink.

That was a question he was most certainly not going to answer. He was not going to audibly say to a man with a head as big as Rufus Shinra’s that the last three men he had slept with were blondes with strong noses. It wasn’t a type…just a preference. He could be attracted anyone under the right circumstances.

“Clammed up again, have you? I’m sure you already know my type.”

Women who looked like painted dolls and men who could fold themselves in two.

Tseng remained silent.

“I think I’ll have a chat with him.” Rufus’ eyes were still on the man in the blue suit. “Go have a drink. Loosen up.”

Tseng was never big on alcohol. He hated losing control of his senses in any capacity, and he always felt sick after a night of drinking. The taste of it had never grown on him either, so even one drink was unappealing. He remained rooted to the spot watching Rufus talk to the man and his friends with an unpleasant weight settling in the pit of his stomach. It was alright to admit he found Rufus handsome, and more tolerable now that he’d seen another side of him. That was as far as he would go with it.

He scanned the room a few times. Nothing of note. Just a lot of drunk idiots chattering loudly and knocking back drinks. Rufus leaned in close and whispered something in Blue Suit’s ear, then glanced across the room to catch Tseng’s attention.

It was time to go.

They took a private car back to Rufus’ apartment. Tseng sat in the front with the driver while Rufus and Blue Suit sat in the back, the familiar wet sound of kissing issuing from the back seat after no time at all. Tseng stared out the window and wished he had listened to Rufus and just brought someone home with him after all. It wasn’t appropriate while he was on the job, but it wasn’t as though Rufus had been remotely appropriate since Tseng started his stint as a bodyguard.

From behind him, Rufus moaned softly and said, “Wait until we get there.”

As soon as they reached his apartment, Rufus shot out of the back seat like a bullet. It was Tseng’s job to unlock and open the doors while Rufus and Blue Suit pawed at each other and made obscene noises, totally oblivious to his presence. The elevator ride to the top floor must have lasted a century, then they were in the apartment and Rufus and Blue Suit were on their way to his room, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

Sighing, Tseng slouched down on the couch and stared at the front door. For a moment, if just that, he understood why Reno smoked so much. His body felt like it was on fire with pent up energy and he had nowhere to direct it. He closed his eyes and attempted to temper his emotions: this was how he always dealt with things.

A series of loud moans and slick noises issued from Rufus’ bedroom, snapping Tseng’s concentration like a string. His stomach twisted and the thought of Rufus naked wormed into his brain - a pale leg sticking out from under a robe. His mind had done this to him plenty of times before, but it had been unwanted and with a sense of revulsion attached. Now he felt an angry green heat at the sounds coming from the bedroom. He stood and paced and tried to concentrate and calm himself down.

The sounds grew louder.

Tseng paced down the hallway into the bathroom and stood gripping the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Empty your mind. Empty your mind.

He tried techniques he had learned in basic training, meant to endure all manner of heinous torture. The thought flickered through his mind that this was torture, in a way. Still issuing from down the hall were the sounds of bodies mashing together. He was fighting a losing battle with his imagination, and his biology quite frankly. His body was reacting to the noise - and the images his mind was unwillingly creating - whether he wanted it to or not, and he most certainly did not.

If he weren’t on the job, if he were back in the - well, comfort wasn’t the right word - back in the solitude of his home, he would have just taken care of the urge like an adult. Arousal was only a biological reaction after all. There was nothing shameful or embarrassing about ridding yourself of it whenever it showed up. Unless of course you were standing in your employer’s bathroom listening to him pound the life out of someone.

Well there was nothing to do for it. He was a professional - he couldn’t just jerk himself off in the bathroom to deal with the issue. Pushing back from the sink, he stalked back down the hall and resumed his spot on the couch, closing his eyes and attempting to meditate. When meditation didn’t work (he needed a distraction free environment and this was not it) he tried to think of the most vile thing he could, if only rid himself of the now painful erection between his legs.

Rufus would not let him hear the end of it if he saw him.

The worst thing he could think of at the moment was Heidegger completely naked and screaming at him for doing a poor job, so that was what he put in his mind’s eye, until his stomach turned - it was oddly calming. By the time the noises finally ceased within Rufus’ bedroom, Tseng had dealt with his issue in the most appropriate and professional way he could. He opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening.

Blue Suit was the first to exit, already clothed again. Rufus stepped out behind him and Tseng had to remind himself to hide any visible response, because Rufus wasn’t wearing a single shred of clothing as he led Blue Suit out the door, shutting it curtly behind him and waltzing past Tseng into the kitchen.

“I thought maybe you would have gone to sleep,” Rufus said, grabbing a glass of water and gulping it down. His entire body glistened in thin sheen of sweat. Tseng stared intently at the wall.

“Does my nudity bother you?” Rufus asked, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. “It’s just a dick. It’s not like you’ve never seen one.”

“It’s your home, sir.” Tseng imagined his eyes were lasers and if he turned even the slightest glance toward Rufus, he would burn him into a pile of ash.

“You seem very interested in that painting on the wall,” Rufus laughed. He carried his glass with him as he crossed the room to sit in a large armchair by the window, moving directly through Tseng’s line of sight.

At least once he sat down, the arm of the chair covered him.

“You can go to bed now,” Rufus said. “I know you were waiting up for me to finish so there wasn’t a stranger hanging around.”

Tseng stood, stiff and awkward. “Good night, sir.”

Rufus waved a hand from his spot by the window, but said nothing. To be honest, Tseng was grateful for the dismissal. Nothing had ever sounded better than going to sleep and erasing the last hour from his brain to the best of his ability. He went about his nighttime routine methodically, untying each shoe and setting it at the end of the bed, hanging his suit in the closet to keep it as crisp as possible, brushing his teeth for exactly two minutes and twenty seconds. There was a comfort in familiarity, especially with a job that often put him in uncomfortable, unfamiliar situations.

As he climbed under the soft down comforter that smelled vaguely of Rufus’ cologne, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The image of Rufus Shinra’s penis was burned into the back of his eyelids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Tseng's really in for it now isn't he?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Someone needs to show me how to use twitter for fan content cause I've tried browsing it and there's so much good Tseng/Rufus art but ugh at what cost? I hate twitter. Anyway. More soon!


	6. Confidant

Due to the nature of his current position, Tseng rarely had a break from his role as Rufus’ bodyguard, and by extension, he almost never had a break from Rufus. He attended covert meetings with him, followed behind him at parties, spoke with security at political functions to ensure they were taking necessary precautions, and otherwise had his eyes on Rufus’ six every hour of every day that he wasn’t asleep - even then, he ended up asleep in a chair in Rufus’ room half the time.

The only time he was afforded a break from the man he had, for some reason, chosen to commit treason for, was when he had a mandatory meeting with Veld and the other Turks. It was the first such meeting since Tseng had begun lying to his superiors and there was a sense of guilt as he stepped into the conference room and took a seat next to Reno. Veld had yet to arrive, but the other executive Turk - and current second-in-command - Pella D’Amico, sat across the table with her arms folded in front of her, frowning at Reno for Gods knew what reason.

“How’s the babysitting gig going, Tseng?” Reno greeted him.

“Perfectly fine.”

“Surprised you don’t have to drag along pretty-boy to our meetings. He’s allowed to do things on his own? Heard his old man thinks he’s double-crossing him.” Reno picked at his fingernails. He sounded only mildly interested in the conversation even as he made it. 

“He had a meeting with his father and the accountants this morning,” Tseng said. “It was…fortuitous that our meetings overlapped. The President and Heidegger don’t want him out of my sight for very long.”

“Yo, Pella, where the fuck is Veld?” Reno barked.

“Reno, need I remind you that I am technically your superior?” Pella pursed her lips.

“Sorry.” Reno sat up a little straighter. “Pray tell thee, where art our boss?”

Pella exchanged an exasperated glance with Tseng and said nothing.

Veld entered the room a moment later and took a seat at the head of the table. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got held up in a meeting with Heidegger. We were discussing the reports we received from all of you. Good work on the Fort Condor case, Sinclair. You retrieved very valuable intel for us.”

“Just doin’ my job, boss.”

“Hm.” Veld thumbed through some papers in his hand. “D’Amico, we’ll need to discuss the logistics of deploying a few additional men to Wutai.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Liu?” Veld looked up from the papers. “What is your status with the President’s son?”

“It remains the same, sir.”

Veld fixed him with a hard stare and Tseng felt suddenly anxious. Just as quickly, it was over, and Veld was staring back at his papers. “The President’s not happy with the money Rufus has been spending. If you have any influence over his spending habits-”

Tseng almost laughed. If only the President knew where that money was actually going.

“I can have a word.”

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing overarching goals for Wutai and a handful of insurgent groups to the west. Pella was given a new assignment at the end of the meeting, and then they were dismissed. Tseng resisted the urge to check his watch. He hadn’t been apart from Rufus for this long in over a month and he was frankly annoyed with himself for feeling so eager to see him again.

The last few weeks had not been kind on Tseng’s mind. Rufus was  too comfortable with him: waltzing around his apartments half-naked, continuing to bring people home to have loud sex, touching Tseng’s arms and back as he talked to him. It had been so long since Tseng spent time with someone he was genuinely attracted to that he had forgotten how irritating it could be. It was almost worse to be around Rufus now than it had been when they hated each other. Because the other problem was that Rufus wanted to talk all the time, about whatever topic suited his fancy at the time, whether or not Tseng really wanted to discuss it.

For Tseng, the low point had been two days ago, when he awoke with an erection and, deciding to just take care of it before the day began, Rufus’ face popped into his brain at the precise moment his orgasm hit.

What the hell was wrong with him? Committing treason? Falling for the boss? Until he was assigned to this stupid post, he had never broken a single regulation in his life. 

“Liu, would you walk with me?” Veld asked as they left the conference room. “It’s on your way, I promise.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tseng walked stiffly alongside Veld, out of the conference room and into the elevator. They took it up to the roof, where Tseng was meant to wait for Rufus with a helicopter so they could depart immediately for Junon. On the roof, Veld veered into an alcove between a section of electrical boxes, pulling Tseng abruptly into the alcove with him.

“Sir?” Tseng didn’t hide his alarm.

“This is a blind spot. The cameras don’t pick up any feed or sound here because of the electrical boxes. Not many people at this company are privy to that knowledge,” Veld explained. “I trust you understood my message before. Your reports have been disappointingly devoid of information.”

“Sir, I…” Tseng paused and considered what to say. He decided on the truth. “I’m working for Rufus now, sir.”

“Good.” Veld nodded knowingly. “Very good.”

“This is treason we’re talking about,” Tseng whispered.

“It is,” Veld agreed. “But Rufus has the intelligence and charisma his father lacks. I needed someone smart enough to recognize that. The truth is, the President didn’t request you specifically. I volunteered you when he asked for one of my top men to look into his son. My only concern was your strict adherence to the rules. But you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Tseng. You didn’t disappoint. Tell me, how did he convince you?”

“He just…showed me what he had,” Tseng shrugged. “He’s much smarter than his father.”

“Keep helping him. Do whatever he asks of you, within reason of course. And keep sending me your reports.”

“Eventually the President will grow frustrated with my inability to uncover any information. Then what?”

Veld nodded. “Eventually he will reassign you. Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with it. Continue helping Rufus until such a time. This is a very slow, dangerous game we’re playing. I trust you to keep it close to your chest.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Sinclair is helping me with matters on our side.”

“Sinclair knows?” Tseng raised his eyebrows. He knew Reno was good at his job, but he never considered Reno would keep his mouth shut about anything long enough to help Veld commit treason against the President.

“He does. He’s also very aware of the repercussions if he’s found out. Now go on. Rufus will be finished with his meeting soon.”

They stepped out of the alcove and Veld saw himself back into the building. Tseng crossed the tarmac and requested a helicopter for pickup, checking his watch to see how much time he would have to wait, supposing Rufus’ meeting finished on time at all. Meeting was a strong word for what was likely Rufus sitting in a chair in the President’s office looking bored while his father berated him and some poor accountant was put between them.

Tseng adjusted his cuff links and watched the door.

It was ten minutes past the expected time when Rufus swept dramatically out of the door wearing a scowl, his trench coat trailing behind him. It would have made the perfect picture for the front of some high-end tabloid. He stalked across the tarmac and came to a halt in front of Tseng. 

“How was your meeting, sir?”

“Oh, you know.” He twirled a coin idly between his fingers. “Always a joy to meet with my father. What about you?”

“We can discuss it in Junon, sir.”

Rufus clearly understood. They remained next to each other on the tarmac awaiting the helicopter for several minutes. Rufus stared out at the sea of lights twinkling below them. 

“Did you grow up in Midgar, Tseng?”

“No, sir.” Tseng already knew Rufus had.

“Where then?”

“Mideel.”

Rufus tore his gaze away from the city to look at Tseng. “Mideel? Interesting.”

“Is it?” Tseng shrugged. The helicopter he had summoned began its descent toward the landing pad. He and Rufus watched it as it settled down against the tarmac, then they stepped into the helicopter and they were silent again.

After nearly fifteen minutes, Rufus said, “So you’re not going to elaborate at all?”

“Sir?”

Rufus pursed his lips. “Don’t. I’ve asked you a thousand times not to be so obtuse. Just answer my fucking question.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see what’s particularly interesting about my being from Mideel, sir.”

“Well, how the hell did you end up in Midgar?”

“There isn’t anything to do in Mideel. My parents were surgeons who moved there from Wutai to help establish a much needed hospital. I left home at fifteen. Midgar was the place for young boys to go if they wanted to…’become someone’. The city quashed any grand notions I had about that, but I knew how to break bones just as well as set them thanks to my parents.” Tseng folded his hands in his lap. He wasn’t sure anyone knew that much about his past. No one ever asked, and he didn’t readily offer up information, to Rufus’ eternal irritation.

“An easy fit for the Turks.” Rufus nodded and stared out the window. “You know, the Turks killed my mother.”

“I know, sir.”

“I was only seven.” He flipped his coin back and forth across his fingers. “You can understand, perhaps, why I don’t care for my father.”

“Yes, sir.”

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to punctuate every sentence with ‘sir’. You’ve spent every waking moment with me for the last three months.”

“Sorry, sir,” Tseng said, without thinking. “Habit.”

Rufus was relatively silent for the rest of the flight to Junon. When they reached his apartment, he shrugged his trenchcoat off and let it fall on the floor, shuffling into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. Tseng picked the trenchcoat up off of the floor and hung it on the nearby coat rack, moving to the living room and taking a seat on the edge of the couch closest to the door. 

“Won’t you have something?” Rufus asked. He looked remarkably tired.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“One drink won’t you kill you,” said Rufus, and he poured a second glass of whiskey.

He forewent his usual spot by the window, shoving one of the glasses into Tseng’s hand and slumping down on the couch, closer than Tseng thought was really necessary for how large the couch was, but still leaving several inches between them. He propped his feet up on the glass coffee table and swirled his drink around with a miserable look on his face.

Tseng brought his drink to his lips and his nostrils flared at the burn of it.

“Are you…okay?” It was a struggle for Tseng not to add ‘sir’ to the end of his question.

“Just a bad day,” Rufus knocked back half the whiskey in his glass in one gulp and slouched further into the couch. “I have those on occasion. Nothing like being screamed at by my father for an hour to lift the spirits. Did you have a good relationship with your parents?” He turned his gaze to Tseng.

“It was adequate,” Tseng replied. Another effort on his part. It was so much easier to pretend he didn’t understand and not elaborate any further. “I had many siblings. Easy to get lost in the fold.”

“Gods, I wish I was so lucky. A sibling would be someone else to attract father’s ire.” He knocked back the other half of the drink and set his glass on the table. Tseng considered the company-wide rumor that the director of SOLDIER - Veld’s equivalent in that department - was The President’s illegitimate son. He didn’t mention it. “They make you renounce your families when you join the Turks, don’t they?” Rufus asked.

“It’s…strongly suggested for their safety,” Tseng explained. “Not everyone does. I did, not that I think I was sorely missed.”

“It would be so much easier to just take the same line my father did and have him murdered. But it wouldn’t help me right now, and it’s a completely tactless way to handle things. I know I’m not in the will right now. If he dies, I get nothing.” Without warning, Rufus grabbed the glass of whiskey from Tseng’s hand. He wasn’t drinking it anyway, so he let Rufus take it.

“You know what’s really sad?” Rufus asked, and Tseng wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question.

“Sir?”

“Before you, I had no one to talk to.” He rolled his head lazily against the back of the couch to look at Tseng. “My bodyguards were just these idiotic muscle heads who stood around and tried to be sly about snooping on my personal business. But it’s not like my ‘friends’ give a shit about me.” He stared into his glass with a frown. “You’re the first person I feel like I can really trust in…Gods know how long.”

Tseng had no clue what to say, so he said nothing. 

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Rufus continued.

“I don’t,” Tseng said quickly. 

At first, yes. It was hard to feel sympathetic for a man who had never wanted for anything. But he had seen plenty in the last three months that made it clear almost every aspect of Rufus Shinra’s life was empty - devoid of any real meaning. The only thing in his life with any passion behind it was the effort he took to undermine his father.

They weren’t really that different. Who did Tseng have to confide in? He trusted the other Turks, especially Veld, but he certainly wasn’t running to them to vent his spleen. He mostly kept it to himself. Wasn’t it easier that way?

“Thanks for listening anyway,” Rufus sighed and knocked back the rest of his drink. 

He patted Tseng’s knee as he pushed himself off the couch. When he reached the doorway to his room, he stopped and leaned against it, observing Tseng in the darkness for a moment. Tseng held his gaze despite his growing discomfort. It felt like a stone had settled between his ribs.

“Do you ever take your hair down out of that ponytail?” Rufus asked.

“I…what?”

“I guess you must when you shower. Can I see it?”

“Sir?”

In a few short steps, Rufus was in front of him. His hand hovered over Tseng’s head. “Can I?”

“If that’s what you want.” What was he saying?

Rufus ran his fingers across Tseng’s scalp and a pleasant tingle rippled through his skin and down his spine. He had to temper his reaction, breathing slowly through his nose as Rufus’ hand reached the band holding his hair together and slid it slowly down his ponytail and out of his hair. It fell thick against his shoulders and Rufus stood back to observe it.

“Why don’t you wear it down?” he asked.

“It gets in the way.” Tseng held perfectly still, his entire body brimming with electricity. He was sure if Rufus touched him again he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Hm,” Rufus grabbed Tseng’s chin and held his gaze without saying anything, his eyes roving over his face. What was he doing?

To Tseng’s disappointment, Rufus let go of him and turned on his heel, crossing the room again. He hovered in the doorway for a moment, both of them staring at each other in the dim moonlight, then Rufus grabbed the doorknob and stepped inside. 

“Goodnight, Tseng.”

“Goodnight.” 

He watched the door close with ambivalence. He was disappointed nothing more had happened, but relieved as well. Too often in the last few weeks, he had considered the thought. It wasn’t a line he should or was willing to cross.

There was no harm in thinking about it if he didn’t act on it…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's totally normal and appropriate for your boss to run his hands through your hair. Definitely not flirting AT ALL.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I'm so glad people seem to be enjoying this because I've really been having fun writing it. More soon!


	7. Line of Fire

“Heidegger has arranged for a squad of security officers to be present at the event,” Tseng explained to Rufus as he sat watching a team of people apply various substances to his face and hair to make him more suitable for his television appearance.

From time to time the President asked his son to give speeches at events he didn’t have the time to attend or else didn’t want to. Rufus was handsome and charismatic - a natural choice to represent the company anyway. The public needn’t know that Rufus technically had no stake in the company at the moment.

“I’m sure the security detail couldn’t think their way out of a wet paper bag, which means they won’t have been thorough,” Rufus said, glowering at the man smoothing a concealer across his forehead. “Is this really necessary?”

“The cameras pick up everything.” The man shrugged.

Tseng privately wondered why Rufus agreed to attend these events and give speeches for his father. It was likely part of his entire cover-up of his efforts against him, but he didn’t seem to much enjoy being primped and polished, though he was an excellent orator if the few speeches Tseng had seen him give were any indication. Rufus couldn’t have harbored any naive notions that these appearances alone would earn him a place in his father’s will, but they must have kept him placated enough to keep some money flowing.

“Well, I trust you to deal with the real riff-raff,” Rufus said, meeting Tseng’s gaze in the mirror in front of him.

“I’ve done what I can, but at a public gathering-”

“I know. But who would want to attack me? I’m too beautiful, after all.” He laughed loudly.

The public was fond of Rufus - or at least, those who were already fond of Shinra were fond of Rufus. And why wouldn’t they be? The average person lived vicariously through celebrities and Rufus was the celebrity in Midgar. Even when the tabloids were trying to smear him, people seemed to like him all the same.

With a face like that and all the money in the world, it seemed he could do no wrong.

Tseng suspected that most people underestimated Rufus, as he once had. If anyone was going to attack him, it would be to get at his father, not that his father would probably care if he were killed. The risk existed regardless of the reasoning behind it, and it was ultimately Tseng’s job to ensure Rufus’ safety. He did wish Rufus wasn’t quite so flippant about it.

“That will have to do it,” the lead makeup artist said, clapping her hands and stepping back from Rufus.

His face looked uncannily smooth and he curled his lip at the sight of his reflection.

“Fine. Let’s go, Tseng.” He swept out of the room and Tseng was quick to follow.

Rufus led them down a long hallway to a door with a sign that read ‘EXIT TO STAGE’ in large red letters. He pushed his way out the door and into an area behind the stage where a number of people were prepared to meet him and get him positioned for his appearance. One of them attempted to push Tseng away and relegate him to the shadows behind the stage.

Tseng grabbed the man’s arm without any hint of softness in his touch. “I go where the President’s son goes.”

Rufus noticed the altercation. “What is that idiot doing? Does he want me to get shot? That’s my head of security.”

A chorus of “Sorry, sir, our apologies, sir!” Sounded as Tseng was ushered forward with Rufus to the side of the stage.

From this vantage point, the crowd stretched out before the stage was visible. If Tseng had to guess, there were at least two hundred people waiting to hear Rufus give his speech. It could have been worse. Lined along the ends of the stage were Heidegger’s men, faces obscured by thermal helmets, arms behind their backs: a useless stance. They should have had their weapons in hand ready to fire, but he could almost hear Heidegger explaining how that would make the crowd uneasy.

Tseng’s skin prickled when Rufus leaned close to him to ask, “See any major threats?”

“No, but it’s a large crowd. Anyone could be hiding down there.”

Rufus squeezed his shoulder and moved in front of him. He was, as usual, dressed in a sharp white suit. How he managed to keep it so immaculately clean was beyond Tseng - Turks wore black for a reason.

“Mr. Shinra will take a spot at the podium as soon as Mrs. Jacobson is done introducing him,” a squat woman holding a clipboard explained. “You can stand on that red ‘X’ there just to the rear left of Mr. Shinra.”

This woman couldn’t really enforce where Tseng chose to stand, but he didn’t tell her as much. He would stand wherever he felt was the best location to keep Rufus safe from a potential attack. He stared at the woman and didn’t say anything.

“Er…right,” she backed up awkwardly.

Mrs. Jacobson was the head of a non-profit dedicated to providing food to the needy and Rufus was there to give a speech about the donation his father had contributed to the organization. What no one in the crowd apparently cared to know was that Mr. Jacobson was a weapons manufacturer who had struck a deal with President Shinra the month before, and all of the money supposedly being donated to the non-profit was being funneled into Mr. Jacobson’s work - this was the case for most of the charities Shinra supported. Rufus often said it was a waste of Shinra’s money to even foster the pretense of bothering with charities, another one of his father’s weaknesses.

Tseng scanned the crowd while Mrs. Jacobson spoke. Rufus stood next to him, scrolling through e-mails on his phone.

“For someone without an official position in this company, I get pestered far too often by the executives,” he muttered.

“Perhaps they see the potential of your leadership, sir,” Tseng offered.

Rufus gave him a withering look, pocketing his phone as Mrs. Jacobson called him up onto the stage. The speech was meant to last ten minutes, which was plenty of time for someone to tunnel all the way from the back of the crowd to the stage and make an attempt on Rufus’ life. Tseng continued his scan of the crowd - curious onlookers were filtering into the back every minute. Anyone and everyone could be an attacker. He had taken down an attempted bomber on the tenth floor of headquarters once who was well into her eighties; the security officers who let her in had been promptly dealt with.

From the podium, Rufus smiled and waved and otherwise did an excellent job of making himself look attractive and likable while he spouted platitudes about Shinra’s commitment to the people of Midgar. These speeches would come to an end the moment he took over for his father, that much he had made abundantly clear to Tseng, but for now he had appearances to keep up.

The crowd clapped at all the right times. A few young women in the front row swooned and giggled to one another - Rufus had that effect on people.

Tseng’s senses were on high alert, which was the only reason he heard the shuffle of fabric from behind him before the shout came.

“DEATH TO SHINRA! LONG LIVE WUTAI!”

He spun around to find one of the camera operators rushing the stage from behind, gun in hand. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as Tseng moved quickly in front of Rufus. The gun fired as the man finished his battle cry and Tseng was aware of a sharp, burning sensation in his side. He ignored it, firing his own gun on the attacker, catching him in the gut and kicking his gun away as he dropped it. Heidegger’s security officers rushed in and dragged the attacker away, but the gunshot wound was very likely fatal, as Tseng intended it to be.

“Get the President’s son out of here!” Tseng barked. “You don’t need ten men to take down one attacker. What are you doing?”

Rufus was suddenly at Tseng’s side. Behind them, chaos had descended in the crowd and Mrs. Jacobson was at the microphone trying to direct people safely from the area.

“You’re shot,” Rufus said, his hands already moving to peel Tseng’s suit jacket off.

An angry red stain had blossomed on the right side of his shirt. Tseng’s legs buckled and he let Rufus settle him down onto the ground.

“I’ve been shot before,” Tseng hissed. It hurt worse than he had immediately realized. “You need to get out of here and into a secure vehicle.”

“Shut up,” Rufus said. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“This is my job, sir.”

Rufus pursed his lips. “Are you idiots useful for anything or are you just going to stand around yanking your dicks?” He barked at the security officers hovering around them. “Help me get him into the car.”

“Yes, sir!”

Bending down, Rufus slung one of Tseng’s arms around his shoulder while a security officer grabbed the other. Moving exacerbated the pain in Tseng’s side so that he thought he might faint, but he simply wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Sir, please, this isn’t necessary-”

“Are you disobeying orders?” Rufus snapped. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

There was no more protesting. Tseng could barely hold himself up and the wound in his side was throbbing as it continued to spill blood. They reached the car and Rufus and the security officer set Tseng in the backseat. Rufus climbed in next to him and slammed the door in the officer’s face without so much as a ‘thank you’ before shouting to the driver,

“Get us back to headquarters. Now!”

Tseng was making poor work of unlatching the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with them in an attempt to get at his wound. His hands felt thick and clumsy and his breath was labored. Rufus swatted his hands away and tore down the length of the shirt, ripping the buttons loose and pushing it away from Tseng’s shoulders.

“Don’t touch it,” he chided as Tseng’s hand went to the bloody tear in his side.

“You shouldn’t…” Tseng gasped. It hurt too much to think. He leaned his head back against the seat and focused on metering his breath.

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” Rufus’ eyebrows furrowed as he fingered the bangle on his wrist until he found the materia he was looking for. “Anyone else up there and I would be dead right now.”

“I…” Tseng gasped. “I vetted the staff. It’s my fault-”

“Would you _shut up_?”

Rufus pressed his palm against Tseng’s side, activating his restore materia. A green glow shot out of the orb resting in the bangle and leached into Tseng skin, at first cool and numbing, then sharp and stinging as it stitched his skin and muscle back together. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

“There,” Rufus said. “All better.”

Tseng took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Rufus’ hands and parts of his suit were covered in his blood. A smear of it was on his forehead and a strand of his blonde hair where he had wiped it from his face.

“Sir, your suit.”

“I have plenty of other suits,” said Rufus, leaning back against the seat and scanning Tseng’s face. “How does it feel now?”

“Better. Thank you, sir.”

“You need rest. When we get back to the apartment-”

“I have to file a report to Veld about this,” Tseng interrupted. He was tired though. Nothing sounded quite as good as a long rest. “It’s essential that I-”

“Veld will forgive you for recovering from a gunshot wound.”

Tseng closed his eyes. “As you say, sir.”

When they reached headquarters, Tseng had an easier time of walking himself in, though his abdomen was still aching from a combination of the wound itself and the materia still doing its work. Whether he wanted him to or not, Rufus slung an arm around his waist to stabilize him and help into the building. They went in through a private entrance to avoid unwanted attention, into the elevator where Tseng finally allowed himself to lean more heavily on Rufus, his energy sapped.

“There’s a lot more muscle on you than I would have thought,” Rufus remarked. “I guess you have to be fit for this job, but still.”

Tseng said nothing.

“Makes you a lot heavier than you look,” Rufus added.

“Sorry, sir.”

He laughed at this and helped get Tseng inside the apartment and into his bed. For a moment, he disappeared, only to quickly return with a glass of water, some pills, and a wet rag. He shoved the water and pills into Tseng’s hand.

“Take these.”

A few months earlier, Tseng would have been worried it was poison. Now he took it without hesitating - anything to help the pain. Rufus grabbed the rag and scrubbed, as gently as he could, to clean some of the blood away from Tseng’s side.

“It’s not necessary, sir,” Tseng protested. His eyelids were heavy and he didn’t have much energy to fight him on it.

“These sheets are expensive,” Rufus said. “So it is necessary. I’d rather not have blood all over them.”

Closing his eyes, Tseng focused on Rufus’ bare palm pressed against his stomach while the other hand scrubbed at his side, focused on every point of skin against his, Rufus’ fingertips pressing lightly into his flesh. And then the pills hit and he thought of nothing at all.

* * *

When Tseng awoke, his side was no longer aching, for the most part, but his mouth was dry and he felt vaguely nauseous - a side effect of both the materia and the medicine. He sat up and took a long drink from the glass of water on his nightstand.

Rufus lay stretched out on a settee by the window, sound asleep, no longer in his bloodstained suit. Instead, his robe was half draped over him, though he was at least wearing his underwear this time. For a moment, Tseng watched him sleeping, the delicate rise and fall of his chest as he breathed - but even a moment was too long.

Why did he still jump when Rufus touched him? Why did he still harbor this annoying little crush? It twisted at his insides.

Quietly, so as not to wake Rufus, Tseng slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door, down the hallway to Rufus’ study where he took a seat behind the desk and booted up the computer to begin writing his report on the incident. While he waited for everything to load, he scanned the news on his phone. There were already several articles posted about the attack, all with a pro-Shinra slant because the President controlled the media. It made Shinra look good: a crazed pro-Wutai idiot attacked the well-loved President’s son at a charity event. If Tseng didn’t know better he would have thought maybe the President orchestrated it himself. If the attacker succeeded, Shinra would still look good and Rufus would be out of the President’s hair.

Tseng decided he would bring that up to Veld the next time they could speak privately.

He heard Rufus coming before the door opened, either because Rufus didn’t care if he was heard, or because he didn’t realize how heavy his footfall was on the wooden floors of the hallway. He glanced up as the door opened and Rufus leaned against the door frame.

“Not thinking of turning me in now, are you?” He smirked.

“Just writing my report, sir.”

“It’s past midnight. It can’t wait until morning?”

“I was awake.” Tseng shrugged.

Rufus padded across the room and came to stand behind Tseng, leaning against the back of the chair and glancing over his shoulder.

“Do you ever take a break?”

“Being a Turk is a full-time commitment.”

Rufus’ hands clamped down on Tseng’s shoulders and his skin jumped. “So tense,” Rufus said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You need to learn how to relax, Tseng. Do you ever do that? Just relax and take a moment for yourself?” His fingers dug lightly into Tseng’s skin, his thumbs massaging into the muscles on his back. Tseng couldn’t help how his entire body tensed at that.

“They teach us meditation at the academy, to help clear our minds,” he told Rufus, his jaw set tight.

“Does this bother you?” Rufus asked, still kneading his hands into Tseng’s skin. “I’ve always been a very physical person in general, but I know some people don’t really like it. You strike me as someone who isn’t very comfortable with non-violent physicality, Tseng.”

“No, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No, you don’t like it, or no, you do?”

Yes.

“It doesn’t bother me, sir.”

“Gods, your muscles are tight,” Rufus dug his hands harder into Tseng’s shoulders. “I should refer you to my masseuse.”

Of course he had his own masseuse.

Rufus’ thumb ran over a particularly tight knot in Tseng’s back and Tseng let out an unexpected low moan, gripping the arm of the chair as a combination of pain and pleasure rocketed down his spine and into his groin. Heat crept up his neck as he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quickly.

Rufus laughed and let go of him momentarily, stepping to the side of the chair and resting one hand on his shoulder. “Hit a sensitive spot?”

“Sir.”

An annoyed huff left Rufus’ throat and his hand dropped from Tseng’s shoulder entirely. He crossed to the other side of the room and took a seat in one of the chairs facing the desk.

“Are we not on friendly terms, Tseng?” Tseng stared at the computer. “I mean, how many months has it been now? Almost six. You don’t need to keep acting so formal around me. We spend all our time together. Would it kill you to loosen up a little? Can you look at me and not the computer please?”

Tseng met his gaze and found it unbearable to hold. “I’m sorry, I…” He didn’t know what to say, really. “My line of work doesn’t lend itself to friendliness.”

“Bullshit,” Rufus challenged. “Reno is abundantly friendly…some would say too friendly. Veld is perfectly cordial too.”

“I’m not Reno.”

“No,” Rufus agreed. “That’s obvious.”

Tseng’s eyebrows furrowed. “I am trying, si-” he stopped himself before he could say it. “I’ve never been particularly sociable.”

He knew that Rufus just wanted a friend. Tseng was his only confidant and a constant presence. But in the months since Tseng agreed to switch sides for him, Rufus had divulged plenty of information about his life, while Tseng remained relatively silent with his own thoughts and feelings. He answered whatever questions Rufus asked about him, but generally assumed if he wasn’t asked, no one wanted to hear, so he never let go of a single shred of information beyond whatever the initial question had been.

“You’re trying,” Rufus echoed.

What Tseng wanted to say was that part of the problem was that every single second he spent with Rufus was at least some degree of agony because he had become so inexplicably attracted to him. The other part of the problem was that Rufus was fun and charismatic and easy to be around while Tseng was none of those things. All he was was good at was his job - it was all he knew how to be.

An uneasy silence passed between them. Rufus pushed himself up out of the chair.

“Sir…Rufus.”

He stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Thank you…for today. For taking care of me.”

“You saved my life. Isn’t that the least I owed you?”

“Protecting you is my job, sir.” He cursed himself for tacking ‘sir’ so readily onto the end of every sentence, almost wincing as it left his lips.

“Right,” Rufus sighed. “Good night.” He shut the door behind him more forcefully than Tseng expected.

Tseng stared at his half-finished report for several minutes, not taking in a word of it, instead dwelling on the conversation. How was he supposed to be friends with someone who was his superior and his charge? It just didn’t make sense. Rufus couldn’t understand because he’d never had to answer to rules of the hierarchy before. He didn’t understand the order of things like Tseng did.

But Tseng also hated the way Rufus looked at him when he was disappointed.

Surely that alone was worth trying harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tseng posting to r/relationships: My (M, 29) boss (M, 23) gives me massages and touches my hair. What does this mean?
> 
> Anyway. Thanks for reading and for the lovely comments! I'm having fun with it because I live for slow burns. More soon!


	8. Heat

A helicopter ride from Midgar to Gongaga took roughly five hours, which meant five hours stuck in a cabin with a very moody Rufus Shinra glowering out the window, with at least one pit stop to refuel on the way there. Tseng tolerated his mood and said very little, mostly because he had already voiced his concerns with the plan and there was simply no stopping Rufus once he put his mind to something.

The leader of a fringe group of insurgents had taken Rufus’ money meant to buy weapons and supplies in order to launch a direct attack against Shinra, and instead funneled it into Wutai to support their efforts in the war. Then the insurgents had attacked a small squadron of security guards that were working directly for Rufus and stolen their weapons - as well as sent some of their body parts in boxes to Rufus directly as an extra ‘fuck you’. Rufus wouldn’t abide being misled or made to look stupid, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Tseng had done the legwork, figuring out where exactly the insurgent leader - Lila Greentree - was hiding in the jungles surrounding Gongaga. If Rufus would let him do his job, he would have gone alone, or possibly with Reno and a security detail, to deal with the matter. It was, after all, the Turks’ job to get their hands dirty so that the President and his executives didn’t have to.

Rufus felt strongly that the only way for an enemy to fear you was to occasionally get your own hands dirty. Fine. Tseng understood the desire for revenge. Well, not personally - nothing had ever really happened to him to inspire that kind of blind rage, but he could understand why Rufus needed to do this himself. The point of contention was really that Rufus refused any sort of security detail. The small faction of men and women Veld won over to his side were the ones who had been attacked and he couldn’t risk any of Heidegger’s men reporting back to the President about this.

So Tseng and Rufus went alone, with Reno flying the helicopter, the only other person they could fully trust to keep Rufus’ secret.

“You guys have been pretty damn quiet back here,” Reno said as they stopped to refuel. “Moody Mary and Negative Nancy, huh?” He leaned against the side of the chopper and observed the two of them. Rufus paced around the nearby field to stretch his legs.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tseng said.

“Hey, I heard Pella’s doing pretty bad,” Reno was adept at changing the subject of conversation so fast it gave Tseng whiplash.

“She was seriously injured, of course she’s doing poorly.”

Tseng didn’t want to dwell on it. He liked Pella - there was a reason she was second-in-command for the Turks. Her helicopter had been shot down over Fort Condor a week earlier and she had been in a coma ever since. Rude Davis was operating as the temporary fourth executive in her absence, and with each passing day it was looking more likely that Rude’s new appointment would be permanent.

“Yeah,” Reno sounded appropriately dismayed. “I mean, it’s cool having Rude in the inner circle, but…I dunno. I hope Pella pulls through.”

“That might be the most genuine sentiment I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Reno hopped back into the helicopter. “Come on, we’re ready to fly.”

It took another two hours to reach Gongaga: a miserable little village on the southern end of the Western Continent, surrounded on all sides by dense jungle. Shinra built a reactor there some years back, which brought more people in to help operate it, but also brought in a number of insurgents waging guerrilla warfare in the jungles in protest of the reactor and Shinra’s presence.

It was really Rufus’ own fault for funding these idiots.

As soon as they stepped out of the helicopter, a wave of sweltering heat moved to greet them. The air was so humid that it felt heavy and thick to walk through, and immediately Tseng had to remove his suit jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves as sweat began to bead on his skin. Rufus followed suit.

“Get us a room at the inn, Reno. We might be here for a while and I’d rather stay comfortable than try to camp out in this miserable heat,” Rufus ordered.

“You got it, boss. Just ring me if you run into trouble.”

“Tseng will be able to handle it,” Rufus said, catching Tseng’s eye. “You have the map with her approximate location, correct? Lead the way.”

He did as Rufus asked, fire and ice materia at the ready to selectively burn a path through the jungle if needed. The rebel base was reportedly deep within the eastern side of the jungle - it might take them all day to reach it, which worried Tseng. They would be at a disadvantage in unfamiliar territory, exhausted from the heat.

“Make sure you stay hydrated,” he said to Rufus.

“Never took you to be a mother hen, Tseng.”

“It will make you look weak if you pass out from dehydration in the middle of asserting your dominance, sir.”

Rufus chuckled and took a sip from the flask at his side.

Tseng had never seen him dressed so utilitarian, but it was necessary in the dense overgrowth of the Gongagan jungle. In place of his usual polished boots he had rough-worn hiking boots, khakis and a button-down instead of his crisp white suit. He could have been on the cover of a nature magazine, handsomely disheveled from the heat.

Better not to dwell on it. Time had done nothing to help Tseng’s absurd little crush.

They hiked on through the jungle, careful not to catch themselves on roots and wildlife alike. There were more snakes than Tseng cared for, though Rufus didn’t seem to mind them, even picking some up to move them out of the way, delving into a lecture about how to tell the venomous ones from the harmless ones.

“You know a lot about wildlife, sir,” Tseng remarked.

“Yes, a particular interest of mine, you could say. Hojo used to give me his failed experiments. Just attack dogs, things like that. I would rear them until my father decided they were too big to stay in the apartment and then he would have them culled. I’d like to have one again some day.”

“Perhaps when you run the company, sir.”

“Perhaps,” Rufus agreed. “Gods, but it’s hot out here.” He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “Why does anyone choose to live in this gods forsaken place?”

“Mideel has a similar climate,” Tseng said. He was trying harder to converse with Rufus when it was apparent that was what he wanted, and finding it a little easier with time. “Though, I admit I’m no longer accustomed to it like I used to be.”

“Horrible,” Rufus spat. “The sooner we find this bitch and kill her, the better.”

“She likely has a number of guards. We’ll be outnumbered.”

“I trust between the two of us we might be able to handle it.”

They stopped after a few hours when Tseng found a stream to refill their flasks. Rufus gulped down the water and refilled his flask twice before he was ready to depart. He stopped to unbutton his shirt halfway to his navel, his chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Tseng stared at the water to avoid looking at him.

“We should stop to rest before we reach the compound,” Tseng said as they continued their hike. “Based on the map, we’re about an hour south of where she should be. In another mile or so there’s a lake we could stop at.”

“Good idea. We’ll want to have all our strength. You can pin her down if it comes to it, but leave the death blow for me. I want her to look me in the eyes and know why she’s dying.”

“As you say, sir.”

By the time they reached the lake, Tseng’s shirt was soaked through with sweat and he eyed the crystal clear water with longing. Nothing had ever sounded better than taking a dip and cooling his searing skin. But they had plans to attend to and limited time to carry them out if they hoped to be back to Gongaga by nightfall. He settled for kneeling by the water and splashing his face with it to cool off.

Rufus draped himself against some rocks, pressing his face to the cool stone and running a hand idly back and forth over the surface of the water. He hardly looked like someone who was plotting a revenge killing in that moment.

“You know, Tseng, I’ve been thinking.”

Tseng sipped from his flask. “Sir?”

“Maybe you ought to have a day off each week just to…attend to whatever personal business you have. I could stay at headquarters that day, or have Reno on my detail. He’s not the best replacement, but it’s not fair to you to never have a moment to yourself.”

“That’s not necessary, sir.”

Rufus flicked his hand out of the water and trailed a wet finger down his chest to cool himself.

“You don’t have any…needs…going unfulfilled?” There was a subtle shift in Rufus’ voice, a huskier tone. Maybe Tseng was only imagining it because he was focusing all of his energy into not looking at Rufus.

There was no questioning what Rufus was getting at. Rufus had his ‘needs’ met anytime he wanted to with a continual string of guests running through the apartment that Tseng had to vet each and every time. Truthfully, Tseng probably should have taken some time away to tend to himself. His usual method was to show up at a higher end bar on the upper plate and wait for someone to approach him - he wasn’t very good at flirting - go home with them, do what needed to be done, then slip out and wait until the next time he felt it had been too long.

Recently his only release had been his own hand in the mornings before he got ready for a full day of answering to Rufus’ whims.

“No, sir.”

Rufus expelled a loud sigh. “Maybe you should have the day off either way.”

“I don’t need any time off, sir, but if you feel that I do, Reno would be a suitable replacement in my absence.”

“Not really.” Rufus sat up. “I may get annoyed with you for not talking enough, but Reno talks enough for the both of us.” He slipped off the rock and stood up. “Let’s get going.”

Tseng secured his flask to his hip and rose to his feet as well, stopping after only a few steps and holding up a hand to stop Rufus as well. There was a rustling in the trees, but whether it was an animal or something more sinister remained to be seen. Tseng pulled his pistol from its holster.

“Get behind me.”

The only time Tseng felt qualified to give orders to Rufus was when his life was in danger, and thankfully Rufus tended to listen in such a scenarios. He took a few steps back and to the side. Around the same time Tseng spun to turn toward the rustling just above them, an arrow flew from an unseen assailant above and shot right through Rufus’ left shoulder and out the other side.

Rufus fell to his knees, staring at the arrow jutting from his shoulder with his mouth agape. Tseng fired wildly into the trees as another arrow flew by and narrowly missed them.

Ripping his phone from his pocket, Tseng jammed a finger against the call button as he fired his pistol with the other hand, turning foot over foot in a circle around Rufus to keep any more arrows from hitting him.

“Reno!” Tseng barked. “Get to my location immediately.”

“On it-”

Tseng hung up before Reno could finish his reply. Judging on the number of arrows flying at them, there were only two assailants, but they had likely been watching them for a while. They were well hidden in the treetops, but Tseng caught the edge of a leg as one of them leaped to a different tree branch. Their camouflage concealed them against the greenery, but Tseng’s shot found its mark once he could follow them. The body went tumbling from the trees and landed with a sick crack against the rocks. That was at least one of them down.

The chopper sounded overhead sooner than Tseng anticipated, hovering above tree line without a suitable area to land in. Reno appeared in the doorway, tossing down a ladder before resuming his place in the cockpit.

With no small amount of difficulty, Tseng slung Rufus over his shoulder and began the ascent up the ladder. The other unidentified assailant ceased their attack, likely scared off by their companion being killed. Tseng didn’t look back, struggling up the ladder rung by rung.

“Almost there,” he said to Rufus, who was clutching his back to the point of pain.

They reached the cabin and Tseng hoisted Rufus inside before climbing in after him and pulling the ladder up. “Get us back into town.”

Reno glanced backward and his eyes widened in surprise. “What the fuck happened down there? Bows and arrows? What the fuck are these dickrags playing at?”

“Just fly, Reno!”

Tseng turned his attention to Rufus, peeling his shirt off to get a look at the arrow jutting from his shoulder. It went through clean, which was a good sign, but he would have to cut both ends off to pull it out. He fumbled around for a first aid kit beneath one of the seats, then set about preparing his materia.

“How badly does it hurt, sir?”

Rufus glared at him and sucked air through his teeth. “Feels fantastic.”

“I have to pull it out. It’s going to hurt.”

“Just get it over with.”

As quickly as he could without rushing things, Tseng clipped the head and tail from the arrow. He gripped the end jutting out of the front of Rufus’ shoulder and braced a hand against Rufus’ chest. There was no use giving a count, Rufus would only tense up, so he yanked without warning, successfully freeing the shaft from Rufus’ shoulder. Rufus let out a howl of pain and doubled over, clutching at Tseng’s arm and dry-heaving.

“That was the worst of it,” Tseng offered.

“Fuck me,” Rufus hissed.

Now that the arrow had been removed, the wound was bleeding freely and vigorously. Tseng set about patching it up with a combination of materia and bandaging. A wound that deep would need time to heal internally, but the materia would at least help the job and stop the bleeding. Rufus gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into Tseng’s arm as he worked to patch him up.

“That bitch knew I was coming.”

“The helicopter was probably a giveaway,” Reno said, unhelpfully. “I mean I know it doesn’t have our logo or anything, but-”

“Reno. Enough.”

To Tseng’s surprise, Rufus fell against his shoulder, his breath ragged and heavy against his neck. He felt an uncomfortable pull at his bellybutton, but made no effort to move Rufus in his injured state. He was barely conscious anyway, fighting through what had to be a considerable amount of pain.

It was a short flight back to the village. Tseng carried Rufus to the inn, into the nicest room such a village had to offer: not much more than an old mattress on an aging wooden base, a ratty couch, and a private bathroom. He set Rufus down on the bed and offered him his flask of water.

Rufus took a sip and set it on the end table. “Let me rest.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tseng stepped out into the hallway and ran headlong into Reno.

“Boss man okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I want you to go into town and question the locals. I think we were led into a trap and that one of the townspeople is hiding Lila Greentree. See what you can find out. I’ll stay here with Rufus.”

Reno nodded and cracked his knuckles. “I can bang a few skulls and see what I turn up.”

Tseng remained by the door, guarding it while he attempted to type up a report on his phone. It was difficult, and he was tired from the long hike and the rushed escape. Despite his best efforts, he eventually slid down to the floor and let his fatigue win out, his eyes falling closed as he leaned his head back against the door.

* * *

By the time Tseng awoke, night had fallen, though it provided little relief from the heat and the inn was mercilessly devoid of any modern luxuries like air conditioning. Reno had not yet returned, or if he had, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Tseng chided himself for falling asleep on the job, hurrying to his feet and stretching to pop his joints.

He knocked softly on the door to Rufus’ room and waited until he heard Rufus reply.

Inside, he found Rufus seated on the couch, sweaty and disheveled, his bandaging tinged pink. Tseng shut the door quietly behind him and knelt down in front of Rufus, reaching a hand out tentatively to touch the bandaging.

“I should take a look at it,” he said.

“Go ahead,” said Rufus, sitting up straighter to allow him to unwind the bandaging.

“How does it feel?”

“Better. Still sore.”

“It will be for a while. Reno is out looking for information on Greentree. I believe she may be hiding out in one of the buildings here, and that the information I recovered was a false flag.”

Rufus smiled. “Good work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Tseng finished unwinding the bandaging and set it aside to observe the wound. It was mostly healed over, just a bit of dried blood around the exit site and mild puckering that would eventually scar over. He used a first aid kit to clean some of the blood away, then pressed his palm lightly against the wound. Rufus clapped his hand suddenly over top of Tseng’s, curling his fingers around the edges to squeeze it lightly, and all of the breath left Tseng’s lungs at once.

He was frozen to the spot, his gaze focused solely on Rufus’ hand curled around his own, watching as Rufus slowly lifted it away from his shoulder, letting him do it while his stomach did somersaults. Slowly, Rufus teased the leather glove from Tseng’s fingers, tossing it casually aside and bringing Tseng’s hand to his lips. He pressed his lips against Tseng’s palm with the softest touch, barely brushing his skin, but it must have been the most sensual touch Tseng had ever known. His entire body felt like it was on fire, irrespective of the overbearing heat in the air.

Rufus moved his lips to the edge of Tseng’s palm, to his wrist, to his arm. Tseng couldn’t take his eyes off of Rufus’ lips, was barely aware that he had stopped breathing.

To his great dismay, Rufus let go of his arm, but just as quickly, he grabbed the edges of Tseng’s shirt, pulling him forward, forcing him to brace himself against the couch, until the tips of their noses touched. Rufus moved his face, a delicate nudge to brush his nose against Tseng’s, lips parted, breath hot against Tseng’s face.

Tseng felt dizzy. He had never wanted anything so badly in his life, and never been so furious that it was so taboo. This was his boss. There were protocols to be followed. He couldn’t…he shouldn’t…

But he was the one who finally bridged the gap, crushing his lips against Rufus’ and holding himself there for what felt like a century, and yet not long enough. They broke apart, leaving only enough space to breathe each other’s air, and then their lips were together again and Rufus’ hand was caressing the back of his neck, the other hand gripping so tightly against Tseng’s bicep that it almost hurt, but he didn’t care. Rufus’ tongue darted out and Tseng opened his mouth to meet it.

It was too much. He had wanted this for longer than he cared to admit. Part of him was sure he was dreaming, but Rufus’ tongue swirling around his, his greedy kisses, they were all too real.

What was he doing?

As they pulled away for another breath, he turned his cheek. Rufus nuzzled against it, one hand still brushing up and down the back of his neck.

“I…” Tseng gasped. “I can’t.”

He heard and felt the rush of breath leave Rufus’ lungs. “You can’t?”

Tseng tore himself away from Rufus, stood up, took several steps back. “I shouldn’t. There are rules.”

Rufus scoffed and fixed him with an angry frown. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t thought about it once in the last seven months.”

“Sir, I…”

“Oh, don’t fucking ‘sir’ me, Tseng.” Rufus stood up abruptly. “Are you really serious right now?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to say.” He held Rufus’ gaze with some difficulty. “I just can’t.”

Rufus clenched and unclenched his fists, then he swept into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Tseng bristled and tried to write it off as a typical petulant reaction to Rufus not getting his way, but that wasn’t it. If it was wrong to continue this line of thought, then why did stopping things before they went any further feel just as wrong?

He wanted to walk away - probably should have - but it was his job to stay anyway.

“I understand if you’re angry with me.”

The door to the bathroom flew open and Rufus emerged with eyes ablaze. “Oh, do you? Of course I’m fucking angry with you.” He jabbed Tseng in the chest. “Isn’t it your job to read people? Aren’t you supposed to pick up hidden meanings in things? Shiva’s tits, Tseng.” He took one step, then another, and Tseng found himself backed against the wall, suddenly quailing beneath Rufus’ ire. “I’ve been flirting relentlessly with you for Gods know how long and you just…” Rufus clenched his fists and an angry noise welled up in the back of his throat. “It’s like talking to a brick wall!”

They stared at one another. Tseng was flabbergasted. Had he really been flirting this whole time? He was certain it was just Rufus being Rufus: annoyingly physical and suggestive.

What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t good at this when his only objective was sex. He was a thousand times worse at it when he was navigating the complexities of being attracted to his already naturally flirtatious employer.

Rufus’ eyes were fixed squarely on Tseng’s lips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“S-”

He gripped Tseng’s chin, his fingernails digging into the skin. “Call me sir one more fucking time, Tseng.”

“Rufus,” Tseng said, breathless.

And then their lips were together again. Rufus pressed the line of his body hard against Tseng’s and he stumbled back fully against the wall, a hand wrapping around to clutch at Rufus’ back. Their tongues tangled together, breathing hard through their noses, unwilling to break apart again. Tseng’s head swam, part of his brain still screaming that it was wrong, that he shouldn’t, that-

Rufus hand moved between his legs, rubbing against him through the fabric of his pants, and his brain short-circuited as a tiny moan left his throat.

After another few seconds of this, Rufus broke his mouth away, a strand of saliva connecting them, then he kissed across Tseng’s chin to his neck, lightly grazing the skin with his teeth.

“I want to make you feel good, Tseng,” he said in a breathy whisper.

Tseng’s heartbeat throbbed between his legs. Rufus’ fingers moved to the zipper of Tseng’s pants, slid it down slowly, snaked inside and then-

A loud knock sounded on the door.

“Hey boss, you awake? I got news.” Reno’s voice sounded on the other side.

Rufus took several steps away from Tseng and the two of them stood staring at one another while they caught their breath. He smoothed his hair back and looked Tseng up and down.

“Zip up your pants and get yourself together,” he said softly.

Tseng did as he was asked.

“Come in, Reno.”

Reno sauntered in and flung himself onto the couch, stretching out and lighting a cigarette. Tseng opened his mouth to chide him, but Rufus held his hand up.

“That Greentree chick skipped town,” Reno said, taking a long drag from his cigarette and tipping the ashes onto the floor. “Knocked a guy around a bit and he told me she’s headed for an airship pickup in Costa del Sol tomorrow. Supposedly trying to get to Wutai.”

Rufus clenched his jaw. “Have a firing squad drop a few low-grade bombs over her supposed compound in the jungle and then send one of your men in Wutai in to get her. I want her brought in to headquarters alive.”

“You got it,” Reno nodded. “That mean we’re getting out of here?”

“Yes. Gather my things and meet us at the chopper. Tseng?”

Tseng followed Rufus out of the inn and through the village to the helicopter. It was late, and it would be well past midnight before they made it home. He wasn’t really sure what to do or say after the heated exchange with Rufus in the inn. Should they talk about it? Was it going to happen again? What did it mean?

He did what he felt was most appropriate, which was to say nothing and pretend it didn’t happen until Rufus suggested otherwise. They climbed into the helicopter and waited for Reno in silence, until, after several minutes had passed, Rufus spoke.

“I know you don’t enjoy interrogations,” Rufus said. “I’d like to interrogate Greentree myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rufus shot him a warning look. “Let’s get something straight, Tseng. In mixed company, call me sir all you like. But when it’s just the two of us, I don’t want to hear it. Do I make myself clear?”

It took a great deal of effort for Tseng not to add ‘sir’ when he replied, “Yes.”

“I’d like you to coordinate with Reno on securing Greentree. And report to Veld about all of this. I trust we’ll find time to continue our previous conversation at a later date.”

It was a promise, not a suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooo boy I've been very excited to post this chapter. Reno the cockblock.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! More soon :)


	9. Borderline

The Turks had special access to equipment no one else at Shinra was authorized to use: tools to pinpoint locations and identify individuals across the globe. The majority of this equipment was located in one room across the hall from the Turks’ lounge: a bank of monitors and machines the Turks’ collectively referred to as the Intel Room. It was here that Tseng stood with his shoulders squared while Reno, slouched down in a chair in front of the monitors, scrolled through several pages of information.

“Greentree found out it was Shinra funding her shtick and decided to send Rufus a nice big ‘fuck you’,” Reno said. He chewed on a cigarette, but knew well enough not to light up in inside the intel room.

“Then she’s a liability. If she can trace the money back to Rufus, she needs to be taken care of. There,” Tseng pressed a finger to a touch screen on the wall above Reno’s head. “She has an adult son living in Wutai. Find him. Bring them both in.”

“I get your drift.” Reno nodded. “She’s probably on her way to him. Should be an easy lift. I’ll talk to our men on the ground.”

“Very good. I’ll leave you to it.”

Tseng stepped out of the intel room, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway before he crossed through the executive’s lounge and into Veld’s office.

“Tseng. How is your assignment going?”

“Adequately, sir. I trust you received my report?”

“Yes. And the President’s son is…?”

With a camera poised in the corner of every office, Tseng and Veld had to be delicate about how they discussed his work with Rufus. The President didn’t know Rufus was injured, because he didn’t know Rufus had taken an impromptu trip to the Gongagan jungle. Luckily, Tseng was adept at stepping around the subject.

“He has been lounging in his apartment for the last two days.”

“Typical,” Veld laughed. “Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll see you at our next meeting.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tseng took his leave, but stopped short of leaving the lounge entirely. Rufus was at least safe behind the multiple sets of security doors in his apartment, and Tseng couldn’t take being alone with him at the moment. They had not discussed the kiss they shared in Gongaga two days prior. In fact, they had discussed very little. Tseng had spent most of the last two days in the intel room with Reno, and Rufus had been sleeping for half of what little time Tseng had spent in the apartment.

He would continue to avoid broaching the subject until Rufus did. Maybe it had been a mistake, brought on by the rush of adrenaline and the sweltering heat. Rufus hadn’t been in his right mind - that was it.

Mostly to avoid running into Rufus while he was still awake, Tseng took a seat on the couch in the main Turks’ lounge. A lower ranking Turk sat slumped in a chair watching the TV with a glazed-over look and Rude sat on the adjacent couch thumbing through his phone, bald head gleaming under the lights.

Rude, like Tseng, was tight-lipped in most situations. Tseng felt a sense of camaraderie with Rude, mostly because they could commiserate anytime they were stuck in the same room as Reno and he wouldn’t stop running his mouth. Rude was Reno’s partner - Turks were often partnered up in academy if their skill sets could complement one another. Tseng had always worked better alone, and excelled without assistance in academy, so he was never assigned a partner. He could see how Rude’s stoicism would be a good foil to Reno’s excitability though.

“Sir,” Rude said with a curt nod.

“Rude,” Tseng said in return.

They sat in a comfortable silence for another few minutes. Why couldn’t Rufus be this quiet?

There was nothing to be done. Tseng couldn’t spend the rest of his day in the lounge avoiding his work and Reno was on top of obtaining the targets, which left him to return to his bodyguard duties whether he wanted to or not. With a nod of acknowledgment to Rude, he saw himself out to the elevator and hit the button for the fortieth floor.

Rufus was draped in the armchair by the fire when Tseng arrived. He was conversing with someone on the phone, so Tseng simply took a seat in the chair across from him and said nothing. He acknowledged Tseng’s entrance with quirk of his eyebrows, his eyes scanning Tseng’s face as he responded affirmatively to whatever the person on the other end said.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “We’ll plan on Thursday then. Right. Goodbye.” He pocketed the phone and stared at Tseng for a moment before he spoke. “Lunch plans. To keep up appearances.”

“Thursday,” Tseng said.

“I’ll send you the details.”

“Reno is pinpointing Greentree’s location. We should have her in our custody within twenty-four hours.”

“Good work. I look forward to making her scream.”

“We need her to disclose how she traced the money back to you and how many other people might know now. If any of them get word back to your father-” Tseng started.

Rufus held a hand up. “I appreciate your concern. We’ll find out who knows what soon enough. If it does get back to my father, I can handle him.”

Tseng almost said, ‘Sir’, then thought better of it. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at the fire. All he could think about when he wasn’t focused on his work was how soft and warm Rufus’ lips felt against his own and how desperately he wanted to feel it again. His stomach squeezed whenever he thought about it.

“I trust you can book an interrogation room without Heidegger learning about it?” Rufus asked after a minute of silence.

“Of course.”

He peeled himself out of the chair in a languid motion and came to stand in front of the fire, his profile partially illuminated in the flickering light. Tseng watched him, studying the line of his nose, the curve of his neck. He closed his eyes - it was almost painful to look at him for too long.

“Did Veld have anything to say about your report?” Rufus asked.

“Not much. We have a standing meeting in the silent space on the roof. I’ll get his full thoughts there.”

Rufus turned away from the fire, taking a few steps toward Tseng, pausing at the edge of the chair. Tseng tensed as he drew his fingers across his scalp and loosened the tie from his hair.

“Did you think I was going to hurt you?” Rufus asked. His fingers brushed lightly through Tseng’s hair as he spoke.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t know what to do when I’m with you,” Tseng said. It was perhaps the most candid he had ever been with Rufus.

“I see.” Rufus’ thumb traced against his cheek. “I put you on edge.”

“No. That’s not…” Tseng sighed and found himself leaning into Rufus’ hand cupped against his face. He closed his eyes. “You have to understand how conflicted I am.”

To his irritation, Rufus laughed and said, “You think too much, Tseng.”

“One of us has to.”

“Oh! Where was this quick wit hiding?”

Tseng looked up at him and furrowed his brow. “You think it’s funny? You haven’t said a word about what happened in Gongaga.”

“Forgive me,” Rufus dropped his hand to his side. “This is the most talkative you’ve been in the last seven months. Was I supposed to assume you wanted to have a conversation about it when you never seem to want to talk about anything?”

“Do you routinely kiss your bodyguards?”

Rufus smirked. “None have been handsome enough to tempt me.”

“Could you be serious for even a minute?”

“Why should I be?” Rufus prodded. “You’re serious enough for the both of us.”

Irritation flared in Tseng’s chest. Rufus was so nonchalant about everything. What was he supposed to take away from any of this? He was trying to have a serious conversation, _really trying_ , because it was difficult for him to discuss anything even broaching the subject of his emotions, and Rufus was laughing it off.

“Well?” Rufus cocked his head. “You want to have a conversation, start it.”

“I can’t tell the difference between you just being…you and you flirting. So I don’t understand how I’m supposed to know if this-” Tseng gestured between them, “you…touching my hair and squeezing my shoulder is something or nothing.”

Rufus grabbed the arms of the chair and leaned over Tseng. He was, infuriatingly, smiling. “It’s cute how oblivious you are. What do you do when someone’s flirting with you normally?”

“No one is flirting with me on a regular basis.”

“Oh, surely that’s not true.” He brushed his nose against Tseng’s.

“Rufus…”

“Reno flirts with you. I’ve seen him do it.”

“Excuse me?”

Another laugh. “Gods, you really are completely oblivious.”

“Reno flirts with everyone. If he was flirting with me, which he wasn’t-”

“I see now,” Rufus said. He pressed his lips against the birthmark on Tseng’s forehead before standing up straight and moving back to his seat by the fire. “You have a self-esteem problem.”

“I don’t.” Tseng didn’t spend much time at all thinking about himself. And he would take praise if he felt he had earned it. He would gladly admit he was good at his job, anyway.

Rufus raised his eyebrows. “You’ve constructed these elaborate excuses to reason away why everything I’ve been doing to get your attention wasn’t flirting. You know that Reno is a relentless flirt, but somehow think he’s never flirted with you? How would you describe yourself, Tseng? Do you think you’re attractive?”

“I don’t think about it at all,” he said honestly.

Rufus pursed his lips. “Modesty. Clearly you didn’t grow up with cameras pointed at your face and everyone telling you how gorgeous you were. You know, I’m not just saying this because I’m attracted to you. You’re incredibly handsome, Tseng. Have you really never noticed people looking at you?” When Tseng didn’t respond, Rufus continued, “Well, I guess I prefer modesty to arrogance. And I’m sure you’d agree I have enough of the latter for the both of us. So what do you want? You’re already committing treason. Who cares about regulations?”

He had a point.

“You let me know when you’ve decided,” said Rufus. “I can wait. But what I won’t do is have you flip-flopping on the issue. You can’t undo things if this goes further and I’m not going to be your source of guilt.”

Tseng stared at the fire and said nothing.

* * *

Lila Greentree’s son sat beneath the fluorescent lights of an interrogation room with his hands chained behind his back and his mouth gagged. Unbeknown to him, his mother was in the adjacent interrogation room awaiting Rufus’ revenge. Tseng and Reno stood outside the room where Greentree’s son was being held, watching with a sense of detachment as he began to cry. He was young - maybe twenty - and clearly well out of his depth. If Tseng had to guess, his mother had dragged him into her affairs. Reno’s report had turned up very little worth mentioning on the man.

“Rough him up,” Tseng said. “Not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to scare Greentree into talking.”

Reno pulled his stun rod from his hip and pressed the button to activate it, watching the electricity crackle along the length of it. “I’ll take care of it.”

As Reno entered the room, Tseng walked away to observe Greentree one room over. He enjoyed watching interrogations as little as he enjoyed carrying them out, and he had no particular interest in watching Reno beat around a comparative innocent. Not that it mattered either way. Rufus would undoubtedly kill them both to send a message.

Lila Greentree was more composed than her son. She sat still as a statue, staring up at the camera in the corner of the room - Tseng had already deactivated it to avoid any prying eyes or ears, but she didn’t know that. She had been in the insurgency business for several decades, but she was small time compared to some of the other groups Rufus was funding. It was an enormous error on her part to spit in the face of her benefactor this way.

As soon as Reno brought Greentree in earlier that day, Tseng spent several hours questioning her. She had little to say, but he knew could learn plenty from watching how a person reacted to each question. Greentree’s responses were typically enraged: ‘Fuck you! Fuck Shinra! You’ll get what you fucking deserve!’ But every once in a while, she would inquire as to her son’s whereabouts with a look of deep concern, beg to see him before resuming her icy demeanor.

Rufus arrived as Tseng was observing Greentree. It was perhaps the first time Tseng had ever seen him wearing something that wasn’t white, but that was a necessary precaution. There were only so many cameras Tseng and Reno could deactivate and the President’s son walking around covered in blood would definitely arouse suspicion.

“I questioned her this morning,” Tseng greeted Rufus. “She will fold easily if you involve her son.”

“Good. No need to belabor the point. I just want her dead. Give me your pistol.”

“Sir.” Tseng offered up the weapon. “Reno is with her son right now. We can bring him in whenever you’re ready.”

“Wait five minutes and then bring him in.”

He stepped into the interrogation room and slammed the door behind him. Tseng remained in front of the two-way glass, shoulders squared, watching to see how Rufus handled the situation.

“I won’t tell you shit you stupid-” Greentree began an immediate verbal barrage that was cut off by Rufus firing a shot into her shoulder.

“I’ll be doing the talking,” Rufus said. “And you’ll listen. Understood?”

Greentree wasn’t listening. She was staring in shock at the wound in her shoulder.

“How did you tie the money to me?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut now as she attempted to handle the burning pain of the gunshot wound. Rufus fired another shot that lodged in her shin and she let out an anguished wail. He was sloppy, but he wasn’t that concerned about the information. If Tseng were conducting this interrogation, it would have been his primary objective. Rufus’ primary objective was revenge.

“Who told you that I provided the money?” Rufus asked again.

Tseng checked his watch. He walked over to where Reno was dealing with Greentree’s son. He was doing a good job of it: a bloodied lip, a black eye, a few broken fingers. As far as the scale of pain the Turks could inflict, it was relatively mild, but it looked bad and that was what mattered.

He opened the door as Reno’s stun rod made contact with the man’s side.

“Three minutes.”

Reno flexed his fingers. “Got it.”

Tseng returned to Greentree’s interrogation room to find her sporting a new injury above her eyebrow, blood flowing freely from the wound where Rufus pistol whipped her.

The thing about Rufus wasn’t that he enjoyed inflicting pain - if he had relished in it, he would have dragged the interrogation out as long as possible. His problem was that he was too impulsive, too quick to anger. He let that anger drive his decisions, often resulting in a worse outcome than if he had been more level-headed.

It was perhaps the one thing keeping him from being a truly calculating leader.

Blood spatter was speckled across Rufus’ shirt, at least partially hidden by the dark navy tones. To Tseng’s right, Reno jostled Greentree’s son out of the interrogation room and over to the glass looking in to Greentree’s room. He tried to shout a plea, but the gag around his mouth muffled it. Tseng didn’t particularly care to hear what he had to say.

“Take him in.”

Reno did as he was asked, shoving the man through the door into Greentree’s interrogation room.

“No!” She shouted as soon as she realized what was happening. “No! Please! He didn’t do anything. Let him go!”

Rufus gave her an exasperated look and pressed the muzzle of the pistol against her son’s head. That was when she broke, tears streaming down her bloodied face. Her son struggled in Reno’s grip, but for as wiry and thin as he was, Reno had a surprising amount of strength. He didn’t falter.

“Now,” Rufus said, an eerie calm to his voice. “How did you find out I was your source?”

“Tennyson!” Greentree cried. “Albert Tennyson. He was our distributor. He let it slip where the money came from. He thought I would find it funny, but it just pissed me off. That’s what happened. Please, let him go.”

“I never made that deal.”

Rufus fired the pistol against her son’s skull and he crumpled in Reno’s arms. Reno promptly dropped him to the floor with a disgusted look and slipped out of the room. Greentree’s shriek of grief was drowned out a moment later by another gunshot.

Rufus stepped out of the room and handed Tseng his gun. “Get rid of the bodies.” He didn’t look particularly vindicated by his revenge, but Tseng wasn’t going to broach that subject, at least not with Reno around.

“Can’t we make some grunt do it?” Reno groaned.

“No. We don’t need anyone asking questions. We’ll deal with it ourselves.”

“Meet me back at the apartment when you’re done,” Rufus said. “I trust you got the information?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll look into it right away.”

“Good.” He stalked away down the hall and out to the elevator.

Tseng disliked dealing with cleanup as much as Reno seemed to. It was something low-level Turks and security officers were made to do when the higher-ups were finished with interrogations. Tseng’s academy classmates loved to complain every time they were given a cleanup assignment and he had secretly commiserated, but never vocalized his discontent.

“This sucks, man,” Reno growled, hoisting the body of Greentree’s son over his shoulder. “I hate this shit.”

“It will be over soon enough.” Tseng lifted Greentree’s body and followed Reno down the hallway to an incinerator. “I’ll need you to scrub down the room after this.”

“What? You’re ditching me?”

“My assignment is to stay with the President’s son.”

“Yeah? Well can you get tell him he better be more careful next time he throws his money around? We shouldn’t be doing cleanup duty for that pretty boy.”

“I’ll broach the subject,” said Tseng.

They deposited the bodies and locked the door, starting up the incinerator and returning to the blood-spattered interrogation rooms. For a moment the two of them stood surveying the damage. All in all, it wasn’t terrible. Tseng had certainly left far more blood and guts on the floors and walls of an interrogation room in his tenure as a Turk. At least Rufus had been brief.

“Reno?”

“Yeah? Er…yes,sir?” He fished a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

“Do you consider me attractive?”

Reno snorted loudly. “What? Is this a come on? Cause I gotta say, you could work on your finesse.”

“Never mind,” Tseng growled. It was stupid to have mentioned to someone like Reno. What had caused him to break like that? Well, he knew the answer, but didn’t want to dwell on it.

“All right, easy. I was just poking fun. Why are you asking me?”

“Forget I mentioned it.” Tseng began to walk away. He wasn’t going to explain anything about the situation to Reno.

“Well if you wanted to know,” Reno shouted after him. “I’d fuck you anyway!”

What a compliment. Tseng stepped out into the elevator and made his way back to the apartment, embarrassed by his temporary lapse in judgment. He found Rufus lying on the settee in his underwear, hair damp and flat from a recent shower, glass of whiskey in his hand.

“That was quick,” he greeted Tseng.

“I left Reno to do the room cleanup.”

“I’m glad we dealt with the issue.”

“You were sloppy,” Tseng said. It was the first time he had ever offered an outright critique of Rufus’ behavior, and he hadn’t even been prompted. “You let your anger get the better of you. You should be more mindful of it.”

Rufus turned his head languidly to look at him. “I’m not a Turk. I don’t have your apparent unwavering patience.”

“I was merely offering advice,” Tseng held his hands out. He changed the subject - he had already stepped over the line and he wasn’t particularly interested in setting off Rufus’ fuse. “We’ll still need to deal with Tennyson. If he’s divulging your involvement, there may be others who know.”

“I trust you to deal with it,” Rufus said, sipping his drink.

“I’ll begin an investigation first thing tomorrow morning. Good night.” Again he had to stop himself from punctuating the statement with ‘sir’.

“Goodnight. And think on what I said yesterday.”

It was all Tseng had been thinking on. Thinking and thinking and over thinking. The logical part of his brain told him it was a mistake and that he should put an end to it right now. Unfortunately for him, the logical part of his brain was being loudly drowned out by the rest of his body.

He would deal with that particular issue later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but I really enjoy writing the juxtaposition of these hired killers dumping bodies while having a casual conversation about Tseng's fuckability. I think the Turks probably all compartmentalize quite a bit and part of that entails treating killing/cleanup like just another part of the job. Anyway sorry if you thought Tseng and Rufus were gonna bone this chapter - that's slow burn baby :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll post more soon!


	10. Breach of Protocol

It wasn’t often that the four executive Turks got called into a meeting with the rest of the Shinra executives, but the President had called everyone together that evening, so Tseng found himself seated between Rufus and Reno in the conference room, the rest of the executives scattered around the table as they waited for the President to arrive.

In the seat adjacent to the President’s empty chair, Scarlet was griping to Heidegger, who sat to her right. The two of them often collaborated, given Scarlet’s role as head of weapons development. They were also perhaps Tseng’s two least favorite people to deal with. Next to Heidegger was Reeve Tuesti, head of urban development and easily the most tolerable of all the executives. Palmer, the portly head of the aeronautics department; and Hojo, the odd and awkward head of research and development, sat at the end of the table in silence. On the other side of the table, Lazard Deusericus - Veld’s counterpart in SOLDIER - sat chatting quietly with Veld. Although Tseng didn’t care for most of the SOLDIERs he met, his few brief interactions with Lazard had been tolerable. He observed him in comparison to Rufus and found more than a few similarities - perhaps the rumors about Lazard were true. Rufus would have known, but Tseng wouldn’t broach the subject with him.

Beneath the table, Rufus’ hand slid up Tseng’s thigh and it took every ounce of his willpower not to react.

A week had passed since the moment they shared in Gongaga and he had still not given Rufus an answer. It was all he thought about. They had shared an unexpected kiss in the hallway of the apartment two days prior, prompted by Rufus - brief and quickly over when Heidegger showed up to pull Rufus away to a meeting.

Tseng was going to snap in two if he didn’t do something soon.

Rufus hand inched up between Tseng’s legs, rubbing against him through the fabric of his pants and causing his entire body to tense. He cleared his throat and Rufus smirked, dropping his hand only when Reno chanced a glance in their direction.

“Veld, how is Pella faring?” Reeve asked.

“Not well, I’m afraid. She’s been unresponsive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” When Reeve spoke, he was always sincere.

“God I need a cigarette,” Reno muttered from Tseng’s side. He tapped his foot in agitation. “I hate these big wig meetings.”

“Where is my father?” Rufus asked loudly. “Does he always keep everyone waiting like this?” There was a good deal of murmuring with no real response. Rufus curled his lip. “Well he’s calling you here to announce the final strike against Wutai. He’s ending the war.”

The President would not be happy that Rufus had divulged that information.

“Is that true?” Scarlet asked. “The war is ending?”

The door to the conference room flew open and the President stepped in, flanked by a SOLDIER, first-class that Tseng recognized as Angeal Hewley. Many of the firsts had a flair for dramatics that exhausted most Turks, but Hewley was relatively reserved in comparison. Although Lazard and Heidegger had yet to make such announcement, a rumor had been circulating for the last few weeks that one of the firsts had deserted and taken a number of SOLDIERS with him. Tseng only knew as much as Veld would tell them about it, which was very little.

“Thank you for starting the meeting without me,” the President said, fixing Rufus with a furious stare. Hewley came to stand beside his chair as the President sat down and lit up a cigar.

“This dick can light up but I can’t?” Reno whispered to Tseng.

“Were you saying something, Turk?” The President barked. “If so, you should speak louder.”

“Er…no, sir.” Reno quailed.

Rufus gave a snort of derision.

“We’re sending in a team of SOLDIERS to end things,” The President explained. “This war has gone on long enough. If we take Fort Tamblin, we’re guaranteed a Wutai surrender. We’ll get Godo Kisaragi to agree to our terms and soon enough we’ll have a reactor on that island and we can return our efforts to the Neo Midgar project. Heidegger, I need you to prepare a security detail and a handful of Turks to accompany Hewley on this mission. He has another SOLDIER in mind to assist him.”

“Sephiroth is already-” Heidegger began.

“Not Sephiroth,” Lazard corrected. “A second. He’s being considered for a promotion under Hewley’s recommendation.”

Heidegger looked visibly irritated that Lazard knew something he didn’t, but he held his tongue.

“I would be happy to recommend some of my men and women for the job,” Veld spoke up. “I cannot spare my executives at the moment, but there are a number of Turks already stationed in Wutai who could be readily relocated to Fort Tamblin.”

“I want you to have mechs ready to surround the area once the SOLDIERS move in,” the President said to Scarlet.

“Of course, sir.”

The rest of the meeting was spent listening to the executives argue about the best plan of attack, with Hewley piping in with suggestions occasionally. Reno quietly griped to Tseng about why they needed to be there, but Rufus was vocal with his thoughts on the mission, and Tseng had to be wherever Rufus was.

Privately, Tseng was pleased the war would be coming to an end. Many lives had been senselessly lost on both sides and a reactor in Wutai would be beneficial to Shinra. Part of him wondered if his parents had returned to Wutai to use their skills to aid on the front lines. They were still alive - or had been the last time he looked into it a few months prior.

No reason to dwell on it.

The discussion ended with Veld committing a number of Turks to the mission, Heidegger promising a security detail to reduce the number of SOLDIERS on the front lines, and Scarlet agreeing to have mechs brought in once the fort was taken. When they had all come to an agreement, the group was dismissed and Tseng, Rufus, Reno, and Rude piled into the elevator together.

“Ending this war is the smartest thing my idiot father has done lately,” Rufus said as soon as the door closed.

“How soon before you’re running things anyway?” Reno asked, leaning against the elevator wall.

“I thought Turks were patient,” Rufus said. “It’s a long game.”

“Turks aren’t patient,” Reno snorted. “Just these two.” He waggled his finger between Tseng and Rude.

“Yes, Tseng is a bastion of patience, for better or worse.” Rufus glanced sideways at Tseng as he said this.

“You guys wanna grab a drink or something?” Reno asked to resounding silence. When no one responded, he muttered, “Fuck me for asking I guess.”

“It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted,” Rufus said. The elevator doors slid open on the fortieth floor and he stepped out. “Tseng is welcome to join you if he’d like.”

Tseng looked directly at Reno and said, “No,” as he stepped off the elevator.

They heard Reno say, “You’ll get a drink with me, right, Rude?” as the doors closed.

Rufus swept through the security doors and into his apartment, shedding his trench coat and flinging it over the back of a chair as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. He always wanted a drink after dealing with his father. Tseng lifted the coat gingerly from the back of the chair and hung it in the closet by the door. He watched Rufus pace in front of the fireplace while he sipped his drink.

He had to do something. All he wanted in any given moment with Rufus over the past week was to feel his touch again. He had run over all of the things that could possible go wrong, the numerous ways it was absolutely not worth it to take such a huge risk, and in the end, every single line of thought he ran through still brought him back to the same place: nothing else would satisfy him.

Rufus craned his neck to look back where Tseng stood by the door.

“Are you going to stand there all evening?”

“No. I was giving you some space. You’re worked up.”

“Yes.” Rufus took a sip of his drink and set it down on the mantle so hard that some of it spilled over. He crossed the room in a few long strides. “Not because of my father.” He took a step toward Tseng, a fire in his eyes, and Tseng reflexively took a step back. So he took another step, and another, until Tseng found himself backed against the door with Rufus baring down on him.

“I know I said I would wait,” Rufus said, “but it turns out I’m not as patient as you are.” He gripped the back of Tseng’s neck and moved closer to him until the tip of his nose brushed against Tseng’s. Whenever he was that close, it made Tseng dizzy with anticipation. “I really need that answer, Tseng.”

Tseng just barely tilted his head to let his nose brush Rufus’. “I…” Rufus’ fingers glided up and down the back of his neck. He couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to.

“Don’t say you can’t,” Rufus’ breath was hot against his face. “Fuck the rules.”

“Okay,” Tseng gasped.

Rufus didn’t ask again. He pressed his lips against Tseng’s in a surprisingly tender kiss and when he pulled away, he left no room between them, their lips still touching in anticipation of the next kiss. Rufus kissed him again, and again, their tongues tangling as he pressed him hard against the door and tugged insistently at the band in his hair until it was free. He ran a hand through Tseng’s hair and brushed it back, gripping it at the base of his skull as they kissed. Tseng’s breath came heavy through his nose, unwilling to stop kissing Rufus for even a second. There was no going back now.

After what could have been hours of kissing for how delirious Tseng was, Rufus’ lips moved to his neck, applying a rough suction to his skin, grazing his teeth along his jawline. Tseng gripped the back of Rufus’ head and closed his eyes as a quiet moan left his throat of its own accord.

Rufus’ hands were on his shirt buttons, his fingers making quick work of them in a tidy line down his chest. Tseng’s stomach did a somersault as Rufus’ hand traced across his navel and up his chest, moving along the line of his muscles. And then Rufus’ mouth met his again with a rough kiss that sent all the blood straight from Tseng’s head to his groin. Rufus rubbed his body against Tseng’s, his hands shoving the shirt from Tseng’s shoulders and, with a little help, it fell to the floor.

Tseng never wanted to stop kissing him. His lips were so soft, so warm, so insistent. Rufus’ tongue swirled around his while his hand slid down his chest to the edge of his pants. Tseng’s hands moved, far clumsier than Rufus’ had, to pull at the buttons on Rufus’ shirt, tugging his tie loose and pulling impatiently at the fabric, desperate to feel more of Rufus’ skin against his.

Once his shirt was off, Rufus pressed himself against Tseng again, grabbing one of his legs and pulling it to his hip as he ground his pelvis against Tseng’s. Tseng couldn’t help the groan that issued from the back of his throat at this. His heartbeat was throbbing between his legs already.

And then, abruptly, Rufus broke away from him and took a few steps back, breathing hard as he looked Tseng up and down. Tseng took the moment to catch his own breath. The tension between them was tangible.

“Come with me,” Rufus said.

Tseng didn’t hesitate to follow him down the hall and into his bedroom. His heart was pounding so fast he was sure it was going to burst right out of his chest. This was it. He crossed the threshold into the room and Rufus shut the door, turning the lock and leaning against it. He stared at Tseng with a hungry look in his eyes and it made Tseng’s legs feel weak.

He bridged the gap between them and their lips were together again as they stumbled toward the bed. Rufus’ hands tore impatiently at Tseng’s pants, shoving them down to his ankles and nearly tripping him as they continued toward the bed. He stepped out of them and let out a surprised gasp when Rufus’ hand slid inside his boxers and took hold of him. His entire brain short-circuited and for a moment all he could do was stand there, completely still, eyelids fluttering.

Rufus pushed Tseng’s boxers down and wrapped his free hand around his neck, glancing down while his other hand moved between Tseng’s legs.

“I knew you would have a beautiful cock,” he breathed, pressing his lips softly against Tseng’s neck and pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Tseng couldn’t have possibly put two words together to reply.

Rufus leaned over him and kissed him before slowly sliding to his knees between Tseng’s legs, placing a hand on each of his thighs and planting a tender kiss close to his hip. Tseng’s leg jerked involuntarily.

“You need to learn to relax,” Rufus whispered. He gripped the base of Tseng’s cock and dragged his tongue up the length of it, his lips just brushing the head. Tseng shuddered and gripped the sheets until his knuckles were white. “You do want this, don’t you?” Rufus asked.

Tseng was almost certain he was going to explode. He couldn’t remember how to speak. It took him several seconds, hyper-focused on Rufus’ lips ghosting over the head of his cock, before he finally managed to gasp out. ‘Yes’.

As soon as the word left Tseng’s mouth, Rufus’ slid his cock into his mouth, as far as he could, holding the rest of it with one hand as he moved up and down the length of it. Tseng leaned his head back and closed his eyes, every nerve in his body focused on the feeling of Rufus’ tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, swirling over the head with each dip.

This was well worth whatever price he might have to pay if anyone ever found out about this. Of course, he wasn’t really thinking with his brain in that moment.

When Tseng opened his eyes, Rufus was gazing up at him, moaning softly as his lips encircled him. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Tseng ran his hands through Rufus’ hair, which earned him another moan, Rufus’ tongue flicking against the slit at the head of his cock. It was too much. Rufus’ mouth was so warm, and perfectly suctioned against him. It felt so good, _too good_ , he was too close. It was the hardest thing he had ever done to say,

“Stop. _Stop!_ ” And tug on Rufus’ hair until he pulled back with a wet ‘pop’, licking his lips with some exaggeration.

“Too much for you?”

Tseng was so close it was almost painful to have stopped. He took a few deep breaths.

“I didn’t want things to…end prematurely.”

Rufus stood up and leaned over Tseng, brushing his hair back and kissing him. “Good. I would have been disappointed.”

Tseng kissed his chest and went to work removing the remaining clothing separating their skin. He had seen Rufus’ cock once before, months ago, and the image had tormented him. Now, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it, thick and erect between Rufus’ legs. Before he could do anything, though, Rufus pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, kissing his way up his chest until their mouths met again.

Rufus’ cock brushed against his as they lay kissing. He moaned softly into Rufus’ mouth. He was ready. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He had never wanted someone so badly.

“How do you want me?” Rufus whispered against his ear, his hips thrusting lightly against Tseng’s.

“I…” Tseng gasped. He was still having trouble putting words together.

“Do you want me inside of you?” Rufus asked, kissing his neck.

“Yes.” _Yes, Gods, please._

Rufus spent a few more seconds kissing across Tseng’s neck before he sat back on his legs and reached into a drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and squeezing some into his hand. He stroked himself a few times and Tseng turned to roll onto his stomach, but Rufus stopped him.

“Don’t. I want to see your face when you cum.”

A shiver ran down Tseng’s spine and he complied, lying on his back and watching with his breath held as Rufus grabbed his legs and braced them against his shoulders. He held Tseng’s gaze as he grabbed himself and sunk slowly inside of him. Tseng inhaled sharply as Rufus stretched him, relaxing as he began to move his hips in a steady rhythm in and out, stroking against his prostate with just enough pressure to send a bolt of pleasure rocketing up his spine.

The sound Rufus made as he moved was almost enough on its own to make Tseng’s cock throb. He had heard that throaty moan a million times before, but it was so much sweeter now that he was sharing it with him - now that Tseng was the source of so much pleasure.

Rufus increased the pace of his thrusts and Tseng had to brace a hand against the headboard as Rufus knocked him into it. He gripped the sheets with his other hand while Rufus’ fingers dug into the skin of his thighs.

“Gods,” Rufus gasped. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Every thrust drew another gasp out of Tseng. He arched his back, barely aware of the heady moans leaving his own mouth. It had been so long since he’d had sex, and he had wanted Rufus for longer than he cared to admit. It didn’t matter what came next - the release of so much tension felt well worth it.

Rufus was moving at a punishing pace now, knocking the breath out of Tseng’s lungs with every impact of his pelvis against his ass. Sweat beaded on both of their bodies. The pleasure was building with each stroke so that Tseng could barely take it any longer. He gasped and moaned and Rufus’ name was chief amongst the varied sounds leaving his mouth.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Rufus gasped. His hair was damp with sweat, his chest glistening in the dim light trickling in through the windows. “I’m close. Fuck…” He slowed his pace to try control himself.

“I’m…” Tseng gasped. He couldn’t think straight. He was right on the edge. He couldn’t even get the words out. All he could think about was Rufus’ cock pounding into him and how unbelievably good it felt. But Rufus understood, picking up the pace once more to try and match Tseng.

And that was it. His cock glided against that sensitive spot inside of him and the pleasure exploded like a lightning bolt, his entire brain going blank, his eyelids fluttering, a loud moan issuing from somewhere deep inside of him as his cock throbbed and he came across his stomach. Rufus’ orgasm was almost simultaneous: a deep, stuttering moan as he slammed his hips against Tseng’s ass with a few final thrusts, his eyes squeezing shut. Tseng felt the warm familiar rush that accompanied as Rufus slid out of him and fell onto the bed beside him.

They lay for several seconds catching their breath, sweaty and euphoric. Tseng’s heart was still pounding.

Rufus was the first to move, reaching into his nightstand to grab a towel, which they used to mitigate some of the mess.

Tseng wasn’t really sure what to do now that it was over and his senses were returning to him. He hadn’t really had a sexual encounter since he was a teenager that didn’t involve him immediately leaving when things were done. While he could certainly leave and go to his own bed, he didn’t know what was really appropriate in this situation. What was the protocol for after your boss had rattled your brain from your skull?

Rufus sighed contentedly. “That was…very satisfying.”

“Yes,” Tseng agreed.

“Ah, back to your usual talkative self, I see.” Rufus rolled onto his side and traced a finger along Tseng’s chest.

Tseng rolled to face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know the protocol for this. I haven’t slept with someone I know in a long time…I usually just leave.”

“And I usually just kick the other person out when we’re done,” said Rufus. He ran his finger along the bridge of Tseng’s nose. “This is a bit more complicated, isn’t it?”

That was an understatement. It left Tseng feeling much the same way he had when they shared their first kiss. What came next? Would it happen again? Now that they had done it once, he hated to think it might never happen again - it had been so good. And frankly, even though it had been a massive breach of every rule and regulation he had adhered to for the past eleven years, he felt less stressed than he had before when he was indecisive about the matter. He could handle a casual fling with Rufus just fine, but what he wasn’t interested in was pretending it had never happened and going back to how things were before.

This all felt like a bit much to unload on Rufus as he was still basking in post-coital bliss.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Rufus asked. To Tseng’s surprise, he leaned closer, cupping his hand against Tseng’s face and kissing him. Even now, when he knew it would lead to nothing, he felt giddy when Rufus kissed him.

“It was,” Tseng agreed.

“I’m glad you decided to break the rules.”

Rufus pulled at Tseng’s arm, tugging him against his chest, which felt almost more intimate than when he had been inside of him. But Tseng didn’t want to question it. He rested his head against Rufus’ chest and closed his eyes as Rufus ran his fingers through his hair. It was so relaxing, he could have fallen asleep like that, but the question of ‘what now?’ kept nagging at him. After a few minutes, he propped himself up on his elbows, his hair draping around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I just…I need ground rules,” he said. “I can’t handle not knowing.”

Rufus laughed and stroked his cheek. “Even with this you need rules?”

“I’m not trying to be…” He searched for the right word. “Emotional. That’s not it. I just…if this is going to happen again-”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t. It’s convenient, if nothing else.”

“If this is going to happen again,” Tseng continued, “then what’s the protocol? Do I leave when it’s over and go back to my room? Do we-”

“Tseng,” Rufus sighed and closed his eyes. “Please stop thinking so much. If you want to go back to your bed, you can. If you want to stay here, you can. It doesn’t matter. I find your presence comforting in normal circumstances, why should this be different?” He tugged on his arm, beckoning him back down against his chest. Tseng complied, but hesitantly. “After all, how many nights have you spent in that chair by the window?”

He did have a point. It wasn’t so different, was it? The only difference was now they were having sex…right?

“Do you really find my presence comforting?” Tseng asked after a moment of silence.

Rufus’ chest vibrated with a soft laugh. “Is that so surprising?”

No. Tseng felt a similar complacency with Rufus. It was strange to think of a time before he felt that way. Or to consider that he might one day be reassigned. If he was honest with himself, he was dreading reassignment, and fearful it might come too soon.

“I suppose not.”

Rufus’ fingers moved idly against Tseng’s scalp. Despite his best efforts, he found his eyelids fluttering shut, and then the comedown from all the adrenaline hit him and he fell asleep with his face pressed into the crook of Rufus’ shoulder, completely and totally at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, we did it. [insert that meme picture of the dudes in the control room going wild with the screen that says Mission Status: SICK].
> 
> Anyway a slow burn can still be a slow burn after the whole sex thing because....you still have to address the feelings. Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading! More on Tuesday!


	11. Pivot

“Rufus,” Tseng gasped. “I have to go. I’ll be late.”

Rufus’ mouth was glued to his neck as he lay on top of him on the settee in the sitting room. Tseng had made several escape attempts already: first out of the bed, which had resulted in the two of them pinned against the bedroom door kissing for several minutes, then he’d managed to get Rufus off of him long enough to get dressed only for Rufus to meet him in the hallway for another few minutes of groping. Tseng had been insistent then - he had to go - which led to the two of them sprawled on the settee with their tongues entangled.

In the weeks since they first slept together, the sexual tension between the two of them had only been exacerbated. Whenever they were alone together, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, and when they were out and about in mixed company, they shared heated glances and subtle touches. Tseng felt like a teenager who couldn’t control his libido.

It didn’t help that Rufus had an apparently limitless sexual appetite. He had seen enough evidence of that before with the parade of visitors streaming through Rufus’ bedroom, but now he was experiencing it first hand.

Rufus’ hand rubbed against Tseng through the fabric of his pants and he groaned.

“Rufus.” He said more firmly. “I can’t. I don’t have time.”

Rufus leaned over him, bringing his lips to meet Tseng’s. “Can’t you just tell Veld I held you up?” Another kiss. “Don’t go just yet.”

Tseng would have liked nothing more than to ignore his duties and stay there with Rufus, but he couldn’t. He had broken enough rules lately. He pushed Rufus off of him and stood up, smoothing out some of the wrinkles on his suit.

“Don’t pout,” he chided at the look Rufus was giving him.

“I’m not pouting.”

“I have an actual job, or did you forget? Anyway, don’t you have work to do too?”

“I suppose,” Rufus huffed.

Tseng leaned down and allowed himself one last kiss before his meeting. “We can continue this conversation when I get back.”

“I look forward to it.”

And so, nearly an hour after he first stepped foot out of bed, Tseng managed to escape the apartment and put more distance between himself and Rufus than they had had in the last week. Of course, it didn’t stop him thinking about it the entire elevator ride to the fiftieth floor. He needed to stay focused, but Rufus was making it incredibly difficult.

Veld called Tseng the evening before to schedule a meeting early that morning, but wouldn’t say what it was about. That wasn’t so atypical - Turks rarely divulged too much information over the phone, and if it was related to his work with Rufus, it was especially worth remaining tight-lipped about.

Reno and Rude were in the executive lounge when Tseng entered. Reno had taken full advantage of his access to the lounge to play whatever he wanted on the television without risk of one of the lower ranking Turks changing the channel on him. At the moment he had his feet propped up on the table while he flipped idly through the channels. Rude sat next to him, unreadable as ever.

“So he finally shows,” Reno said to Rude. “Never seen you late to anything before, sir.”

“I was held up attending to the President’s son,” Tseng said - technically not a lie. He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you two part of this meeting as well?”

“Yeah, he called all of us up here I guess.”

At this, Veld stepped out of his office and took a seat at the head of the long table at the center of the room. He looked as though he hadn’t slept all night.

“Good, you’re all here. We need to have a discussion.”

“Sir?” Tseng took a seat.

“Effective immediately, you are all being reassigned to assist with a major breach of information.”

Tseng felt a stone settle in his stomach. He knew it was inevitable that he would be reassigned eventually - he wasn’t turning up any information on Rufus that the President wanted, after all. And lately, his ‘job’ had mostly consisted of getting his brains scrambled every evening, which, while enjoyable, was not really the sort of mentally stimulating exercise he had joined the Turks for.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that Genesis Rhapsodos has defected, taking a number of SOLDIERS with him. The rumors are unfortunately true. And following the negotiation of terms to end the war in Wutai, Angeal Hewley has gone missing as well. The President has declared both SOLDIERS missing in action, but they are likely conspiring to lead an attack on Shinra. Lazard Deusericus has asked for the Turks assistance in supplementing some of his lost workforce and I have agreed to his terms. I will be sending you all briefings on the situation. This is _highly_ classified information not to be discussed outside of this room. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they all answered quickly.

“Tseng, you will be leaving tomorrow for Banora with one of Lazard’s men. Both Rhapdsodos and Hewley hail from there - we believe their families may be keeping information from us. Two of our own were sent there last week and have failed to return contact. I want you to investigate and get the intel by any means necessary.”

“Of course, sir.”

Veld rubbed his temple and sighed. “The full details of this issue are in the briefing. We’ll need to bring in some of the lower ranks to assist with this. If you have suggestions, please let me know.”

“There’s Elena,” Reno offered. “She’d be good for this.”

Tseng knew Elena Lindholm - one of the youngest of their team, but possessing a valuable knowledge of martial arts that had rocketed her through the ranks. He actually agreed with Reno that she would be a good choice to assist. He had seen her chattering to Reno and Rude in the main lounge before - their relationship reminded Tseng of his own relationship with his younger siblings. Elena couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

“Lindholm would be a good fit,” Tseng agreed.

“Cissnei too,” Rude piped up.

“Very good then,” Veld glanced at his phone as he spoke. “I’ll brief them later today. It’s your responsibility to guide them and report back to me on their progress. They’re both young and will need leadership.”

“No problem, boss,” Reno said, leaning back in his chair. “Elena can be kind of annoying sometimes, but she’s a good kid.”

“You’ll want to prepare for a long stay, Tseng,” Veld suggested. “We want you to return from Banora with some concrete information on this.”

“As you say, sir.”

“That is all then. Report to Lazard’s office tomorrow morning at seven. He’ll be waiting for you with the SOLDIER on this assignment. You’re dismissed.”

Tseng, Reno, and Rude, excused themselves from the executive lounge. As soon as they were in the main lounge, Reno said,

“Man this is a shitshow.”

This earned him a stern glare from both Tseng and Rude.

“Keep your mouth shut. Go home and read your briefing,” Tseng growled.

He would not admit he was in a foul mood over his reassignment. He swept out of the lounge and headed back down to the apartment. Rufus wasn’t in the sitting room, so he took a moment to settle his nerves, sliding into the armchair by the fire and opening up the briefing Veld sent him.

What he found within was an unmitigated disaster. The information made Tseng’s head spin: missing scientists, copy technology, experiments done to create super SOLDIERS…some of it went above his head, but the gist of it was easy to understand: Shinra employees had defected with Shinra secrets and needed to be summarily handled. That much, Tseng could handle - get in, get the information, take out anyone who knew too much, and get home.

He couldn’t say how long he spent reading over the briefing, making notes as he went along. When he was finished, he pocketed his phone and made his way into the back hallway to look for Rufus. The study door was ajar and the light on, so he let himself in to find Rufus behind the desk typing away on his computer.

Rufus glanced up as he entered. “I thought you’d never come back. How was the meeting?”

“I’m being reassigned.”

This got Rufus’ attention. His fingers jammed against the keyboard and he looked up again. “What?”

“Some mess with SOLDIER. They need our assistance. The reassignment is indefinite until the problem is dealt with. I suppose we knew this day would come.”

“Of course.” Rufus returned his attention to the computer.

Tseng watched him type and said nothing for several minutes. They were used to these sorts of silences - most of the first month or so of Tseng’s assignment had consisted of him sitting in a chair watching Rufus be moody and irritable about his presence. Now he was moody and irritable for a different reason.

“Are you going to say anything?” Tseng asked.

“You’ve never had an issue with a lack of conversation,” Rufus replied tersely.

“You know it’s not my fault that I’m being reassigned.”

“Of course it’s not.”

“You’re upset.”

Rufus smashed his fingers against the keyboard and shoved it aside, finally meeting Tseng’s gaze again. “Yes, I’m upset. I’ve already been perfectly open with you that I don’t have anyone else to confide in. Isn’t it sad?” He shook his head. “All this money and fame and you’re my only friend.”

“I’m just going on assignment. It’s not like I’m dying,” Tseng offered. What he didn’t say was that he felt the same - Rufus was the only person he could ever truly be open with.

“No.” Rufus’ face softened slightly. “I’ve just grown used to your constant presence here.” He stood up and moved in front of the chair where Tseng sat, leaning over him and brushing his nose lightly against Tseng’s. “I suppose there’s nothing stopping you from spending the night in my bed between missions?”

Tseng kissed him and pulled him closer. With their lips barely parted, Tseng said, “It would be foolish not to. Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.” He felt Rufus’ lips twitch into a grin before he pulled away.

“When do you leave?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Early.”

Rufus grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the chair and leading him down the hall to his bedroom.

“Well,” he said, pressing Tseng against the door. “Let’s make the most of our time, shall we?”

* * *

The alarm blaring next to Tseng’s ear at six in the morning was excruciating. He had maybe slept for three hours the night before thanks to Rufus’ insatiable libido. He should have put a stop to it at some point, but at the time it seemed worth it. Now, trying to find the button on his phone to stop the incessant noise, his entire body fatigued, it no longer felt worth it.

Next to him, Rufus groaned and shoved his head under a pillow.

Tseng wasn’t looking forward to this assignment. He didn’t enjoy working with SOLDIERS, and it was bound to be a high-ranking one. The firsts were all gone except Sephiroth, who was reportedly refusing the assignment - no skin off Tseng’s back, but there was no way they would send a third to handle something this important. He also had no interest in going to Banora. It was on the same southern island as Mideel: a backwater little jungle town with nothing much of note other than the white trees which grew a kind of fruit found nowhere else on Gaia.

With some difficulty, Tseng peeled himself out of bed. He took his time getting ready, and once he was dressed, he stopped to lean over Rufus and kiss his shoulder. “I’m leaving now.”

An unhappy groan issued from beneath the pillow. After a moment, Rufus’ head emerged. He pressed half of his face against the pillow and opened one eye, heavy with sleep.

“Stay safe,” he said, with perhaps the most sincerity Tseng had ever heard.

“I’ll be in touch.”

It was hard for Tseng to leave, and not just because the idea of returning to bed and sleeping for another few hours was so enticing. But it was just as difficult to dwell on for too long, so he pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on his new mission. If nothing else, it would be good to utilize his actual skills as a Turk again.

Lazard’s office was on the forty-ninth floor with the rest of SOLDIERS quarters. It required Tseng to pass through the SOLDIERS’ lounge, where a handful of seconds and thirds were milling around. They all eyed him with distrust as he went. Reno’s loud mouth had done more than its share to sow discord between the Turks and the SOLDIERS.

Inside the office, Lazard sat behind his desk clicking away at his computer. A young boy - and he was a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen if Tseng had to guess - in a second’s uniform stood in front of his desk bouncing on his heels impatiently.

Was this the SOLDIER that was to accompany Tseng to Banora? A child?

“Ah, Tseng, good to see you,” Lazard greeted him. “This is Zack Fair. He’ll be assisting you on the mission to Banora. Hewley was his…mentor of sorts. Isn’t that right, Zack?”

Zack frowned. “That’s right. Uh, sir.”

Tseng offered his hand to the boy. “Tseng Liu.”

The frown disappeared from Zack’s face almost immediately. His mako blue eyes widened as he gripped Tseng’s hand so tightly he thought his fingers might be crushed. “I’ve never actually met a Turk before,” Zack said enthusiastically.

Tseng withdrew his hand and exchanged a glance with Lazard. “Well. Are you ready to go…Zack?”

“Sure thing.”

He bounced ahead of Tseng toward the elevator. Tseng observed him with disdain. SOLDIERS were always…different. He couldn’t imagine such enthusiasm from any Turk given the situation they were about to face. Perhaps he hadn’t been briefed as thoroughly as the Turks had.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Zack said as they took the elevator up to the roof. “I’m pretty young to be a second, huh?”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Tseng replied honestly. Sephiroth had been incredibly young when he rose to the ranks of first. Shinra didn’t seem to mind utilizing child labor when it came to brute force.

Zack faltered. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. “I know SOLDIERS and Turks don’t really get along, but I’m not like that.” Tseng said nothing. “We could be friends, right? Seems like we might be working together a lot while we deal with this big mess, huh?”

Tseng had limited interest in being friends with any SOLDIER, least of all one who was likely fourteen years his junior.

“What’s important is that we can work together efficiently,” Tseng said.

“Er…right.”

They crossed the tarmac on the roof and climbed into a waiting helicopter. Zack tapped his foot and leaned to look out the window with an excited expression.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Tseng followed his gaze. He didn’t find Midgar particularly beautiful, but from afar the twinkling lights weren’t terrible.

“Hey, um…Angeal is my friend,” Zack said. “So…what happens if we find him in Banora?”

What did he want Tseng to say? Angeal Hewley had deserted, and there was only one way to deal with deserters. He knew far too many Shinra secrets.

“Surely you understand how things work.”

Zack sighed and looked back out the window. “Yeah…I guess.”

Tseng leaned back in his chair and pulled his phone from his pocket. This was going to be an excruciatingly long assignment if he was stuck essentially babysitting this child across the globe looking for defectors. He had limited patience for naive teenagers. It was bad enough when he had to check in on Aerith.

The notification on his phone announced a new message from Rufus on a secure channel. He opened it and immediately closed it out and deleted it, a heat creeping up his neck at the image that popped up on his screen.

‘Are you trying to get me fired?’ he typed.

‘Just a memento for you’ came the reply.

Tseng slipped his phone back into his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. This mission couldn’t be over soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rufus Shinra dick pic indulgence.
> 
> I guess as a fair warning I'm not going to belabor the plot points of Crisis Core for this next section of the fic - it's much more about how it affects Tseng's relationship with Rufus as well as exploring Tseng's friendship with Zack so...more time skipping and such.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! More soon!


	12. Caught in the Act

A month. That was how long it had been since Tseng had seen Rufus. A month of nonsense dealing with SOLDIERS and spending all of his time either with Zack or with other Turks. The most he had gotten was a brief phone call that had veered into very dangerous territory before Rufus was interrupted and the call abruptly ended. If Tseng was back at headquarters with even a moment to spare, Rufus had been pulled away into a meeting - his father was keeping him close now that the Turks were off the job of monitoring him. There were even rumors that he would be promoted to Vice President soon.

All of it left Tseng exhausted. Shinra was in a state of utter chaos. Genesis and the escaped scientist, Hollander, had attacked headquarters, and now he was left cleaning up the mess with Zack, the overly-chatty-recently-promoted-to-first SOLDIER who would talk Tseng’s ear off at any given moment. The boy had taken a shining to Tseng for some reason and wouldn’t leave him alone, even when they were off duty. He seemed to value Tseng’s opinion, not that Tseng said much one way or another to him.

‘You just sound so wise when you say stuff, you know?’

The only way Tseng could get a moment of solitude was by locking himself away in the executive lounge, but even that usually came with exchanging Zack’s talkativeness for Reno’s equally loud mouth. Still, better the devil he knew than the devil who wouldn’t stop asking him for ‘advice with girls’.

“You look like shit,” Reno greeted Tseng as he fell across the couch in the Turks’ executive lounge after finally freeing himself of Zack for the day. “Having fun on assignment with the kid?”

Tseng didn’t respond, draping his arm over his face and closing his eyes. He lay there for a moment, barely registering the noise of the television in the background.

“So which is worse?” Reno asked. “Having to answer to that brat Rufus’ every whim or having that dumb puppy hump your leg all day?”

Truthfully, Tseng _missed_ Rufus. But Reno didn’t know they were on decent terms. He thought their relationship was strained at best, and it was better if everyone thought that. The fewer people that even suspected they were friendly with one another, the better. It helped that Tseng was naturally stoic - no one knew how he felt about anyone, except maybe Reno, to whom he had made his exasperation known frequently.

“At least the President’s son doesn’t say much to me,” Tseng lied. “I’d prefer that.”

“Phew,” Reno whistled. “Different tune than you were singing a few months ago when he was puking all over your shoes. The kid that bad?”

Tseng sighed. “Zack means well. He’s just young and naive. And his personality is…difficult for me to contend with.”

“Yeah, fuck him for being friendly, right?” Reno laughed loudly and Tseng gave him a warning look. “Hey speaking of the boss. Did you see this?” Reno asked, turning up the volume on the television.

“President Shinra announced this evening that his son, Rufus Shinra, would be named vice president of the company after a unanimous vote by the board of executives,” a reporter on Shinra News Network announced. “Known for his numerous tabloid scandals, Rufus Shinra-”

“Unanimous vote my ass,” Reno snorted. “Old man made the decision and everyone else just has to fall in line. All that power is going to go straight to his damn head. But it’s good for our plan right?”

“Careful,” Tseng warned with a glance to the camera in the corner of the room.

“Right, right. You talked to him since you got reassigned? Any updates?”

“I’ve had limited contact with the Vice President since I was assigned to deal with the SOLDIER mess.” Tseng sat up and pulled his phone from his pocket and began to type a message to Rufus.

 **[Tseng]** Saw the news. Congratulations.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

 **[Rufus]** Are you at headquarters?

It was stupid, but just the thought of having time to meet up with Rufus again made Tseng’s stomach squeeze, his brain going wild with the possibilities. Truth be told, after such a lapse in his sex life, it had been nice to have something regular - that had all gone out the window in the last month, not that he hadn’t thought about it frequently and at great length. He was alone so infrequently lately, that he hadn’t even really had time to be with himself.

 **[Tseng]** Yes

 **[Rufus]** Care to elaborate? I’m in meetings and press conferences all day because of this appointment. I want to see you.

 **[Tseng]** I have to leave tomorrow with Zack for Modeoheim

 **[Rufus]** Come to my office tomorrow when you get a chance. 69th floor

 **[Tseng]** I’ll do my best

The potential was enough to satisfy Tseng for now. Every time they tried to meet up over the last month it had been a failure, and he didn’t want to get his hopes too high - he had to check in on Aerith the next morning and make the necessary preparations for the trip to Modeoheim. As much as he would have loved to spend the entire day naked with Rufus, his work had to come first.

 **[Rufus]** Consider it an order from the Vice President then

Rufus’ final text came with an image attachment that made Tseng flush. He deleted it, but had apparently done a poor job hiding his expression, momentarily blind to Reno’s continued presence in the lounge.

“What’re you blushing at over there?” Reno raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t even know you were capable of showing that much emotion.”

“Reno. Must I continually remind you that I am your superior?”

“Oh. Right. What’re you blushing at, _sir_?”

Tseng sighed and pocketed his phone. “You need to learn to fall in line better than that.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll get on it,” he waved a dismissive hand, propping his feet up on the couch and flipping the channel once he grew bored with the news.

Tseng decided the best thing to do would be to get some rest, but the trek back to his apartment felt far too long, and he couldn’t just waltz into Rufus’ apartment when he wasn’t there without arousing some level of suspicion, so he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes to try and get some halfway decent sleep for the first time in weeks.

* * *

As far as Tseng was concerned, he could have gone the rest of his life without stepping foot in the slums and been happy with the decision, but for ten long years, the last remaining ancient, Aerith Gainsborough had been his charge. Aerith lived in the sector five slums and had since she had escaped Shinra with her mother many years prior. It was a long standing dream of both the President and professor Hojo to reclaim the ancient for experiments that might help lead Shinra to the supposed promised land where a wealth of mako lay waiting for them to claim it.

Tseng wasn’t sure about all that. He kept an eye on her at first because it was his job and then because he had actually come to care for the girl. She was thoughtful and kind, even as a young child, attuned to the planet in a way he had never witnessed before. It was evident to anyone who took the time to really watch her that she was capable of something truly extraordinary.

Thankfully, according to Hojo, the girl had to come back of her own free will, which left some room for interpretation as to how Tseng handled the assignment. For most of her childhood, it had entailed him showing up with sweets and toys while her adoptive mother looked on with disapproval, but his heart had never truly been in it. He wasn’t naive. He understood there were all manner of heinous crimes against humanity committed in Shinra’s laboratories - the current SOLDIER situation was evidence enough of that - but it didn’t mean he liked the idea of Hojo poking and prodding an innocent little girl of such remarkable origin. So he had never really pressed the matter much.

Now that Aerith was a teen, she was feistier about his presence, establishing her own ground rules, which Tseng always followed. She didn’t want him near her house anymore, so the solution had been that he would check in on her during her regular trips to an abandoned church in the sector where, improbably, flowers grew in a little patch of sunlight that trickled down through a gap in the plate and a hole in the roof. It was a sight that could humble even a Turk.

His check-ins were only semi-regular these days, essentially just to ensure she hadn’t run off where they wouldn’t be able to track her. He would pop down beneath the plate, check in on her, then be on his way with a report for Veld about her status.

That morning, as Tseng opened the door to the church and took a seat in the back pew, he was surprised - and a little irritated - to find Zack Fair kneeling next to the flower bed, chatting animatedly with Aerith, the two of them smiling and laughing. How had Zack come to know her?

He shrunk back, shrouding himself in the shadows by the door, and watched for a while. Sometimes, he never spoke to Aerith during his check-ins. Now felt like a good time to leave her alone, but he wanted to know what Zack was up to.

It was evident fairly quickly that the two of them were lovesick. It made perfect sense. However Zack had come to meet Aerith, she was a cute girl, only a year younger than he was, and he was always asking Tseng for romantic advice. It was natural he would have developed a crush on the girl, and she on him. Teenagers and their hormones.

He resolved to question Zack about how he knew her later. For now, he would leave them to their puppy love. There was certainly no cause for concern to her well-being. For being a SOLDIER, first class, Zack was as dangerous as a moogle outside of battle.

Tseng stepped out of the church and checked his watch as he made his way back to the helicopter he had flown down below the plate. He had a few hours before they had to leave for Modeoheim, which meant a few hours he might sneak in a meeting with Rufus if he could manage it.

When he returned to headquarters, he made for Veld’s office first to give him a quick report about Aerith, but didn’t mention Zack’s involvement yet. Maybe Tseng was too soft when it came to his longest assignment, but he worried that if he told Veld about Zack, he and Lazard would put an abrupt end to things. Even if Zack annoyed Tseng on most occasions, he didn’t want to crush his hopes like that.

“I have a meeting with the Vice President,” Tseng said to Reno and Rude as he left the lounge, making an effort to seem put out about it. “So don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Gonna give us the deets when you’re done?” Reno asked. “I’m real eager to see how this Vice President shtick is gonna help his cause.”

Tseng fixed him with a stern look, then left the lounge, careful to pace himself to avoid looking too eager to be anywhere. He rode the elevator up to the sixty-ninth floor and made his way to the previously unoccupied Vice President’s office on the northern wall. He knocked once and Rufus answered, voice laced with irritation,

“Who is it now?”

Tseng let himself in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. At once, the scowl fell off of Rufus’ face, replaced with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair. It was a luxurious office, decorated much like his apartment: in expensive, gaudy furniture of his father’s choosing. The entire north wall was floor to ceiling windows looking out on the city below.

“Come here,” Rufus demanded.

Tseng crossed the room and came to sit on the edge of Rufus’ desk. He stood between Tseng’s legs, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand, his nose brushing against Tseng’s for a moment before he closed the space between them and brought their lips together.

“I only have a couple of hours,” Tseng said. “I have to catch a flight to Modeoheim with Zack later.”

“A couple hours is plenty of time for what I have in mind,” Rufus kissed him again, one of his hands grazing the inside of his thigh.

Tseng didn’t harbor any naive notions that Rufus had been chaste in the month since they’d last seen each other. His string of guests during Tseng’s tenure as bodyguard had been put on pause during the few weeks they had been unable to keep their hands off of each other, but he had no doubt it had resumed as soon as he was gone. Tseng, by contrast, hadn’t had the time to be with anyone even if he had wanted to. He probably would have gone another year and a half without sex if Rufus weren’t in the equation.

Rufus pressed his lips to Tseng’s neck, his hand moving further between his legs. “My afternoon is clear. We can do whatever we want in here.” He unzipped Tseng’s pants and his hand slid inside his boxers, taking hold of him and stroking him slowly. Tseng choked out a little gasp and clutched his neck. “I missed your cock,” Rufus whispered.

Tseng wasn’t talkative in any situation, sex included, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway and would have returned it if he didn’t feel awkward trying to dirty talk. Rufus was good at it, he would leave it to him. For now, he focused on the feeling of Rufus’ hand gliding up and down the length of him and his lips pressed against his neck.

Actually, Tseng wanted to talk about quite a few things with Rufus. Their primary communication lately had been short bursts of texts - there was so much they couldn’t say over Shinra networks. He wanted to hear about his promotion and tell him more about his own missions, but there would be time for that later. It didn’t seem all too important now.

Eventually, Rufus brought his lips back to Tseng’s, their tongues meeting as Rufus grabbed Tseng’s hips and climbed on top of him, pushing him down onto the desk as he did so. Tseng gripped Rufus’ hips with his legs, could feel his erection pressing against him through the fabric of his pants. As much as he enjoyed Rufus’ attentiveness, he was overly eager after a month’s absence. But still, they lay kissing on the desk for several minutes, Rufus’ hand sliding against him through his pants, before Rufus slid off of him with eyes ablaze.

“Turn around,” he demanded. “Bend over.”

Tseng wasted no time in complying, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to his ankles before leaning over the desk. Rufus kissed up and down his back, pushing his shirt out of the way as he did so. On his way back down, he continued past the end of Tseng’s back to plant a kiss against his ass, gripping both sides of it as his tongue moved unexpectedly to the center. Tseng clutched the edge of the desk as his hips bucked at the sudden feeling of Rufus’ tongue against him.

“ _Rufus_.” He gasped.

With a self-satisfied chuckle, Rufus pressed his lips against Tseng’s ass again, biting the flesh hard enough that it would almost certainly leave a bruise, before standing back up and reaching into his desk drawer for some lube. The bite sent an entirely unexpected ripple of pleasure up Tseng’s spine. Before he had totally recovered from it, Rufus slipped a finger inside of him and Tseng let out another gasp, pressing his face against the desk while Rufus' hand moved against him. After a moment of this, Rufus stood back and gripped Tseng’s hip with one hand, brushing his cock along the groove of Tseng’s ass as he did so.

“Don’t tease,” Tseng growled.

“Impatient? I never would have expected this of you, Tseng.” He continued gliding slowly against him. “It’s fun to test your patience.”

“ _Rufus._ ” He huffed.

“All right. If you’re sure you’re ready.”

Tseng rocked his hips back to bump against Rufus’ pelvis. Rufus sank his cock slowly inside of him, stretching him almost to the point of pain, until suddenly it was nothing but pleasure. Tseng held his breath until Rufus found a rhythm, and then it was all he could do to meter his breathing and be mindful of the volume of his moans as Rufus rocked his hips steadily against him, his chest pressed flat against Tseng’s back as he moved.

“ _Oh_ ,” Tseng gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles went white. “ _Rufus_ …”

Rufus pressed his face against Tseng’s neck, kissing it as he moved. “You feel so good,” he moaned.

Sweat was beginning to bead on Tseng’s face. He knew he needed to be quiet, considering where they were, but he couldn’t help the sounds being pulled from his throat with every thrust of Rufus’ hips. Rufus brushed his nose against Tseng’s ear.

“Shh. Not too loud now,” he whispered.

He craned his neck to bare it to Rufus and noticed, to his abject horror, that the door to the office was suddenly open and Zack Fair was standing frozen to the spot, staring at them with his mouth agape.

“ _RUFUS!_ ” Tseng bucked him off abruptly.

“What the fuck, Tseng?” Rufus stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his pants where they remained around his ankles.

“I-I…uh…” Zack stuttered, still glued to the spot.

“Oh,” Rufus sighed, frowning at Zack as he stuffed himself back into his pants. “This must be the puppy.”

Tseng was so mortified he could hardly move, though he did have the presence of mind to pull his pants back up. Zack seemed equally mortified judging by the fact that he hadn’t moved except to stare pointedly at the chair in front of the desk to avoid making eye contact while Rufus and Tseng made themselves presentable.

“Close the door.” Tseng said. He was so angry, so terrified, that he was shaking.

Zack closed the door and backed himself into it, a frightened look in his eyes as Tseng rounded on him. Tseng grabbed him by the suspenders of his uniform and shoved him into the door, perhaps a bit rougher than he should have.

“You saw nothing,” he growled.

“Oh, be nice.” Rufus drawled from behind him. “He won’t tell anyone. Will you, little dog?”

“N-no.” Zack shook his head. “No. I won’t tell anyone, sir.”

Tseng let go of him and began to pace. Why hadn’t he locked the door? What was he thinking? What if it had been Heidegger or Scarlet who burst into the office and caught them like that? To add insult to injury, he had _really_ wanted to just get it over with and cum already. It had been weeks.

“What are you doing here, Zack?” Tseng asked, rubbing his brow.

“I had some questions about the trip to Modeoheim and Reno said you were in a meeting with the Vice President. I…I guess I should have knocked. I uh…didn’t expect…” Zack looked like a scolded child, refusing to meet Tseng’s gaze. Tseng couldn’t really blame him.

“You should have,” Rufus agreed. “Would you barge into my father’s office this way?”

“No, sir.”

“Look at me when you’re answering my questions.” Now Rufus was just toying with him.

Zack looked up. “Sorry, sir.”

“He is a puppy, isn’t he?” Rufus laughed. Tseng folded his arms and frowned at him.

“I’m glad you find the situation funny, Rufus.”

“What do you want me to say? He can’t unsee it.” Rufus shook his head and looked Zack up and down. “You like Tseng, don’t you…Zack, was it? He’s been a competent and worthy partner on missions, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And you understand what could happen if anyone found out about this?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tseng had never seen Zack act quite so professional.

“Good. There you go, Tseng.”

It didn’t stop Tseng’s heart from pounding in his ears. He would have to trust Zack for now, but it was valuable information that could get Tseng fired and killed if Zack ever decided to share it with anyone. That was enough to put him on edge. He had spent his whole life playing his cards close to the chest and digging up dirt on others. Now he had essentially handed someone else the worst possible blackmail he could have possibly dug up on himself.

“Wait for me outside the tarmac,” Tseng said. “Go.”

Zack nodded and rushed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Tseng paced for another moment until Rufus came up behind him and forced him down into one of the chairs in front of the desk, digging his fingers into his shoulders. “Relax. The kid won’t tell anyone.”

“Dammit, Rufus,” Tseng clenched his fists. “You don’t understand. If we get caught, you get a slap on the wrists and nothing more, but I could get thrown in the incinerator for this. Gods…” He buried his face in his hands. “This was all a huge mistake. What was I thinking? What if it hadn’t been Zack that walked in on us?”

It was hitting him now, for the first time, how monumentally stupid he had been to cross this line with Rufus. In the privacy of his apartment, away from prying eyes, it felt worth it - it had been worth it - but he hadn’t truly been thinking of how severe the consequences were. His job had been his entire life before Rufus screwed things up. Why was he doing this to himself?

“I’m sorry,” Rufus said, and Tseng knew he meant it. “I know the consequences aren’t the same for you.”

“I have to go.” Tseng stood up. “This…”

“Tseng.” Rufus grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave it like this.”

“Rufus…” He tore his arm away. “I have to go.”

He saw himself out of the office before Rufus had a chance to say anything more, then he took the elevator up to the roof and paced inside of it, his stomach in knots. He was so stupid. It had been an enormous lapse in judgment. He should never have gotten close to Rufus in the first place.

It had to end. He couldn’t put his own selfish desires ahead of his livelihood like this.

He could have vomited he was so tense.

Zack awaited him in the small seating area outside the tarmac looking incredibly contrite for something that wasn’t his fault in the first place. Tseng took a seat across from him and folded his hands in his lap, taking a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry that you had to see that,” he said.

“Oh, uh,” Zack’s face grew red. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t.

An incredibly uncomfortable silence followed.

“So are you two like…in love or…?” Zack asked. Tseng fixed him with a warning look and he shrunk down. After another moment he added, “Sorry I kept asking you for advice with the ladies…”

Tseng rubbed his temple and leaned against his legs. “Speaking of which. How do you know Aerith Gainsborough?”

“Wait…how do _you_ know Aerith?”

“So she hasn’t told you?” Tseng sat back up. “Well then, it’s not my place. All I will say on the matter is that the Turks keep an eye on her from time to time. When I went to check in on her this morning, I was surprised to find you with her.”

“She’s…” Zack rubbed the back of his neck. “We haven’t really used a label, but I…I think she’s my girlfriend?”

“That’s enough,” Tseng held up a hand. “The less I know, the better. I won’t tell anyone. Just make sure she’s safe when she’s with you.”

“Of course!” Zack nodded vigorously.

And though Tseng asked him to stop, he launched into lengthy spiel about ‘how great Aerith was’ and how he ‘really cared for her’ on and on until Tseng’s head hurt. But it gave him peace of mind too - Zack wouldn’t spill his secret, he was too kind-hearted for that.

He picked up his phone and texted Rufus two words.

‘I’m sorry.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Zack. Also poor Tseng tbh.
> 
> More soon. Thank you so much for reading!


	13. Bent and Broken

Tseng was stuck in a helicopter with two teenage boys from backwater villages chatting animatedly about their experiences living in the middle of nowhere. He had no intention of letting on that he was also from a backwater village, no intention of joining the conversation whatsoever. He felt like a glorified babysitter.

The security guard assigned to travel to Modeoheim with Zack and Tseng was a boy even younger than Zack, with a tuft of wispy blonde hair that had been smashed flat by his thermal helmet. Zack had been the one to start up a conversation with him and, unfortunately for Tseng, the two boys immediately hit it off.

“Yeah, you know what they say if there’s a mako reactor outside of Midgar,” Zack chuckled.

“There’s nothing to do there!” Cloud, the security officer laughed.

Tseng stared out the window of the helicopter with a frown. Logically he knew he was almost as young as the two boys when he joined the Turks, but was Shinra really so hard up for help that they had nothing but teenagers to spare in this fight? He checked his phone, but Rufus had not responded to him, which didn’t help his bad mood.

“Tseng, did you know Cloud wants to be in SOLDIER too? Don’t you think he could if he tried?”

Tseng eyed the scrawny boy with a frown. “No.”

Zack’s mouth fell open. “Come on, man! Don’t be like that. Don’t listen to him,” he said, elbowing Cloud’s side. “Turks don’t like SOLDIERS anyway.”

Tseng turned his gaze back out the window and narrowed his eyes. There were suspicious pinpricks of light along the ground. What was it? It seemed to be getting brighter…closer…

“Missiles!” He leaped from his seat and threw the side door of the helicopter open. “Everyone out!”

“Tseng?” Zack was on his feet.

Tseng shoved a parachute into Zack’s arms and threw another one at a startled Cloud. Veld would have chided him for that. He should have secured himself first because only he could truly see his own mission through, but he wasn’t going to let two teenage boys go up in smoke. The pilot veered the helicopter sharply and Zack almost went flying out of the door before he could secure his parachute, but Tseng grabbed him and held him inside as the helicopter righted itself.

“Go! Jump! Come on, you too,” Tseng said to the pilot.

He was attempting to stabilize the chopper as another missile went flying toward them. As soon as Zack’s parachute was secure, Tseng shoved him out of the helicopter. Cloud was having trouble securing his however, and Tseng didn’t have any more time to waste. He hooked his own parachute around his chest, grabbed Cloud around the waist, and flung himself from the chopper as a missile collided with the side of it.

The explosion that followed sent shrapnel flying, some of which sliced across Tseng’s leg as he attempted to open the parachute while keeping hold of Cloud. He got the parachute deployed in time to slow their landing a bit, but he landed on his already injured leg with an unpleasant crunch. They went rolling into the snow as the remains of the helicopter collided with the side of the mountain.

This was not Tseng’s day.

He lay on his back in the snow for several seconds while the pain in his leg grew more pronounced. When he sat up to look at it, there was bone jutting out of his pant leg just above his ankle. A few yards away, Cloud was getting to his feet, apparently unscathed, brushing snow from his pants and looking around with a dazed expression.

“Go find Zack,” Tseng ordered. “And if you can find a long, straight piece of metal from the wreckage…or a stick…something.” He stared at his leg. Materia would not touch the injury, he needed to set the bone. A quick check of his phone confirmed there was no service where they had crash landed, so he couldn’t call for help either. The pilot would have sent out a distress call before he went down, but it could be a while before someone came for them and by then whoever had shot them down would reach them first.

Cloud returned after a moment with Zack in tow. Zack too, seemed uninjured as he approached - that was good. Tseng wasn’t all that much help in a hand-to-hand fight, and he could still shoot from afar with an injured leg. Better that Zack was still able to fight.

“Oh man, Tseng, that looks bad,” Zack blanched at the sight of his leg.

Cloud offered up a stick roughly the length of Tseng’s shin. “I found this. Will it help?”

“Yes,” Tseng pulled a pocket knife from the pocket of his suit jacket and began tearing at his pants at the line of his knee, ripping the fabric away to expose his wound. He handed the soiled fabric to Cloud. “Rip that into thin strips, enough to wrap up my leg.”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Cloud went to work.

“Zack,” Tseng sat up as best he could. “I’m going to walk you through how to set a bone. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure.” Zack fell into the snow next to him. “Just tell me what to do.”

Tseng told him exactly where to put his hands and how to apply pressure to push the bone back into place without further injuring him. He gave the instructions as slowly and clearly as he could while suffering through so much pain and, to Zack’s credit, he was a good listener and did exactly as he was told. When he snapped the bone back, Tseng couldn’t help the pained groan that left his throat. With Cloud’s help, Zack wrapped the leg against the makeshift splint and they lifted Tseng to his feet.

“Now what?” Zack asked.

“Modeoheim should be a few miles north of here. We have a mission to carry out: find Hollander and bring him in.”

“You can’t be serious!” Zack growled. “You can barely walk.”

With a touch of restore materia, it was only just bearable to put weight on his leg, but Tseng walked all the same, allowing Zack and Cloud to help carry his weight. “I’m still breathing, so the job can still be done. Do SOLDIERS really abandon missions so easily?”

“Wh-” Zack huffed. “No. But we should really get you to a doctor.”

“After we deal with Hollander. A helicopter will already be on its way to pick us up. They anticipate us in Modeoheim, not here.”

“Okay, so we’ll go to Modeoheim,” Zack conceded.

It was a long walk through rough terrain. Every step made Tseng’s leg ache so that by the time they arrived in Modeoheim, he was in excruciating pain. He had dealt with worse, but not much. He had made it this far in his career because he always saw the mission through - this time would not be an exception. There was also a part of him that felt he especially needed to succeed, after the embarrassment of Zack discovering his indiscretion with Rufus.

Modeoheim was a ghost-town, abandoned when the reactor built there stopped pulling mako up from beneath the planet’s surface. With Shinra no longer requiring the dead reactor, there was no more work for the people of the icy northern town, so they had spread to the winds some years earlier, leaving the buildings to be overtaken by nature.

“Fan out,” Tseng said. “Zack. Go investigate the reactor. Cloud and I will check the other buildings.”

“If you’re sure…” Zack frowned.

“Go.”

Zack took off toward the reactor and Cloud carried Tseng along through the rest of the town. There wasn’t much muscle on him, and he struggled to hold Tseng upright, his hand digging painfully into Tseng’s side.

“If you want, I could look around and you could just rest,” Cloud offered.

“No. You don’t know what to look for,” Tseng snapped. Pain didn’t usually test his patience this much, but it was all he could think about at the moment.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, softening his tone. “You aren’t a Turk.”

Cloud carried Tseng through the abandoned buildings, releasing him to hobble around inside each building looking for any clues or signs of Hollander and Genesis. It was left to Cloud to break down doors and jimmy open desk drawers while Tseng leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for breath. Their search turned up nothing but dust and mold and a few dead rodents. By that point, the pain in Tseng’s leg was so intense he could hardly think straight. He attempted another pass over with his materia, but it didn’t touch the pulsing ache deep within his bone. He felt liable to collapse.

“Are you okay, sir?” Cloud asked. “You’re breathing pretty hard.”

“I’m fine,” Tseng said through clenched teeth.

He could no longer bear any weight on the leg, relying completely on Cloud to carry him into the last building on the edge of town: a bathhouse that smelled like rank mildew the moment they stepped foot inside. They found nothing there either and Tseng hoped Zack had better luck in the reactor. They wouldn’t have been shot down if there was nothing to find here, of that much Tseng was certain.

Cloud had just set him down on the step near the door of the bathhouse when they saw Hollander approaching with a metal pipe in hand. Tseng had never met him before, but he had seen his Shinra file and the comparison to how he looked now was shocking. His beard was overgrown, a gut hanging out from his lab coat, clothes torn, his entire appearance dirty and unkempt: it seemed life on the run was not agreeing with him.

“Stop him!” Tseng yelled, struggling back to his feet, leaning partially against the wall while he put all his weight on his good leg. He pulled his pistol from its holster and fired off a few shots that narrowly missed Hollander as he ran toward them.

Cloud leaped forward and fired with his rifle, but his aim was worse than Tseng’s and before he could reach for his nightstick, Hollander was upon them, slamming the metal pipe into Cloud’s stomach and causing him to double over and fall into the snow. Tseng fired off one more shot, catching Hollander in the shoulder at close range before the scientist was upon him. He reached a hand up to block the pipe as Hollander swung it toward him, just managing to grip it, the force of the impact mercifully muted by his gloves.

With as much pain as Tseng was in, he found it difficult to push back against Hollander as they struggled and fought over the metal pipe held between them. Hollander took notice of Tseng’s weakness quickly, winding his foot back and smashing it into Tseng’s injured leg. Tseng’s vision went black and he was vaguely aware of the howl of pain that left his throat as he stumbled back against the wall. Hollander gripped the metal pipe with both hands and smashed it against the side of Tseng’s head with untempered force before disappearing inside the bathhouse.

Tseng’s skull felt rattled and his ears were ringing. He slumped down the wall into the snow and was vaguely aware of little droplets of crimson coloring the snow near where he fell. He struggled to right himself, managed to push himself up enough to vomit up the contents of his stomach, the entire world spinning around him at a violent speed, then he fell onto his back.

“Cloud! Tseng!” Zack was suddenly at his side, lifting him gently from the snow.

“Leave me,” Tseng struggled to speak, his vision going blurry. “Hollander ran inside…go after him!”

Hesitance played out across Zack’s face, “Your head is bleeding, Tseng…”

“GO! The mission always comes first!”

Zack looked back and forth from the doorway to Tseng. He lay Tseng back down, as delicately as he could, and took off inside the bathhouse. Good. The mission was more important than tending to Tseng’s wounds.

Gods but he hurt. His leg felt someone had taken a chainsaw to it and his head was buzzing, ears still ringing, bile churning in his stomach at the pain. Was this really how he was going to die? Knocked in the head by a crazed defector who wasn’t even trained to fight? His entire body coursed with pain, but all he could do was lie on his back staring up at the cold grey sky while snow fell lightly against his skin. It was stupid that all he could think of as he lay there was how he left things with Rufus. He didn’t want to die like this.

The sound of a helicopter issued in the distance, but try as he might, Tseng couldn’t force himself to sit up and look for it.

“Cloud?” He rolled his head to the side. The security officer lay dazed a few feet away, but still visibly breathing.

“Sir…?” Cloud rolled onto his side and clutched at his abdomen.

“Don’t move. Are you okay…?”

“Just a little pain, sir.” Cloud struggled to right himself.

Tseng decided he must have been dying because as the sound of the helicopter drew closer, he could swear he heard Rufus’ voice. And then suddenly Rufus was hovering above him, his face encircled by a foggy light. Tseng reached a hand up to touch his face, his eyelids heavy, the pulsing in his head drowning out whatever Rufus was saying.

But he wasn’t dead. Reno was there too now. And Rude. They were lifting him, carrying him into the helicopter while Rufus barked orders at some unseen target.

“Hang in there, sir,” Rude said. “We’ll get you home.”

“Fuck, man, look at his leg!”

The last thing Tseng saw as they loaded him into the helicopter was Rufus standing in the snow directing a team of security officers.

He looked like a leader.

* * *

Nothing hurt anymore. When Tseng opened his eyes, he felt light and at ease. His leg was wrapped in a cast, suspended in a stirrup, but it didn’t feel like anything. Where was he? What had happened?

It came back after a few seconds of looking around. He was in the infirmary at headquarters with an IV drip hooked up to his arm, which explained why he didn’t seem to feel any pain or particularly care about his injuries. His brain was in a fog and although it was pleasant to no longer hurt, he didn’t like losing control of his senses. He pawed at the IV and a hand clamped over his and pulled it away.

“You’re awake, huh?” Reno sat in a chair next to his bed, tapping his foot in agitation. “Boss man keeps coming in to check on you. You were pretty fucked up.”

Tseng blinked languidly. When he opened his mouth to try to speak, he found it painfully dry. Reno stood up and moved a sliding table over the bed, handing Tseng a cup of water which he gulped down quickly.

“What happened in Modeoheim?” Tseng asked.

“The puppy managed to apprehend Hollander,” Reno explained. “They’re holding him in Junon. He said they only got him because you forced them to walk all the way to Modeoheim from the crash site. Stubborn bastard, ain’t ya?”

Tseng allowed himself a small smile. “I get results.”

“Yeah well, you got yourself a broken leg and a concussion too. Veld’s benching you for the next three weeks so you can recover.”

“Three weeks?” Tseng tried to sit up, but found it too difficult.

“Think of all the paperwork you can catch up on.” Reno shrugged.

Three weeks of desk duty didn’t sound so horrible at the moment. He was tired, and a break from Zack could be downright pleasant. Though, Zack had far exceeded his expectations on this mission. It was kind of Zack to give the credit to Tseng for pushing them on after the crash, but Zack had been the one to chase down Hollander and to make the decision to prioritize apprehending him over helping Tseng with his injuries.

Tseng closed his eyes and sighed. “And Zack and the other boy? …Cloud?”

“Zack’s fine. Don’t know about the other kid, but he wasn’t hurt too bad. You know, if I didn’t know better I’d say it sounded like you were worried about them?”

Perhaps Tseng felt some degree of concern for the boys. They were so young and naive. They shouldn’t have been involved in something like this. It was the same sort of general concern he felt for Aerith - Shinra using children as weapons and experiments put him on edge. Besides, they had set his leg and carried him several miles from the crash site to Modeoheim.

He wasn’t going to admit to Reno that he felt that way, though.

“Merely inquiring as to how my colleagues were faring.”

“Colleagues,” Reno scoffed. “Whatever you say, _sir_.” He hopped up from his seat and stretched, his joints popping as he did so. “I better go let Veld know you’re okay.”

“You said he was checking on me?” Tseng asked.

“Oh. Not Veld. The Vice President. Every hour he’s been popping in here. Guess he was pretty worried. Must have made a good impression on him before. That’s good, though. Get in nice and cozy so whenever Veld kicks it, you’re already in his good graces or whatever.” Reno waved as he reached the doorway. “I’m sure one of us will be down to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

How could Tseng sleep now? Rufus had been checking on him every hour? He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found. All of his effects seemed to have been taken. What was he supposed to do without his phone? Watch television? He had to write his report for Veld, and he wanted to know if Rufus had ever responded to his message, and-

No. He was too fatigued, and the medicine flowing through his veins stopped him from caring too intensely about anything for too long. He closed his eyes and sleep found him quickly.

* * *

It was night when Tseng awoke again and the infirmary room was eerily silent except for the quiet, steady beep of the monitor by his bedside. He opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness. His mouth was bone dry again and he clutched blindly at the bedside table for his water, struggling to reach it, then a hand was on his, placing the cup in his hand and drawing it to his lips.

“You’re awake.”

“Rufus.” Tseng kept his hand clasped over Rufus’ where it held the cup.

“You had me worried,” Rufus said, with a coolness that downplayed his actual concern. “You were in bad shape.”

Tseng let go of his hand. “I’m sorry for how I left things. I was upset-”

“Shut up,” Rufus chided. “You almost died.”

“That might be an exaggeration.”

Rufus’ face came into clearer view once Tseng’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at Tseng.

“I don’t think you realize what bad shape you were in when we found you,” Rufus said. “How the hell did you get all the way from the crash sight to Modeoheim on that leg?”

“The boys carried me most of the way.”

Rufus gripped the railing on the edge of the bed. “Veld was the one who told me about the distress signal. I just-I went into a blind panic when he said you had been shot down. I hardly remember getting to the tarmac.”

“It’s hardly the first time I’ve dealt with something like this,” Tseng told him. It was true - he’d had missiles fired at helicopters he was actively flying. Plenty of people tried to bring down Shinra helicopters where they were spotted outside of Midgar. And he’d been shot at more times than he could count.

“You’re always chiding me for not being serious enough, but now you’re the one being flippant!” Rufus growled. Tseng had never seen him quite so serious.

“Rufus, I-”

Rufus grabbed the sides of his face and pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve told you so many times. You’re the only friend I have, Tseng. I can’t…if something had happened to you…” His lips pressed delicately against Tseng’s and, to Tseng’s great surprise, he felt wet tears dripping down Rufus’ nose onto his face.

“Are you…crying?” Tseng lifted a hand to Rufus’ face, wiping the tears from his cheek with his thumb.

Rufus stepped away and sat down in the chair next to the bed with an undignified sniffle.

“I understand that we should probably stop fooling around,” Rufus said. “But I still need you in my life, Tseng. You’re my only friend, the only person I can truly confide in…the only person I truly trust. If you want it to stop…we won’t have sex again. It was selfish of me. I knew the consequences weren’t the same for you and I-”

“I don’t want it to stop,” Tseng interrupted. “Rufus, I’ve told you things no one else on the planet knows about me. I feel the same. You’re my only true friend. And we probably should put an end to it, but I don’t want to. Maybe it’s selfish. It’s definitely foolish.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “We’re the same, aren’t we? We’re both alone.”

“I guess we are.”

“If this is going to continue, we need ground rules. We can’t risk being caught. It can only happen in your apartment where we know there aren’t any cameras watching us and no one can walk in on us. No more risky meetings in your office. I’m risking a lot here and it isn’t easy for me.”

“You’re right,” Rufus nodded and then added, with a more casual air, “I’ll try to control myself.”

But he couldn’t so easily shirk off the moment of vulnerability that had just been shared. Had anyone seen Rufus Shinra cry before? Until that moment, Tseng couldn’t have imagined it himself. He always acted so cavalier about everything - to think that Tseng had been the source of so much emotion…it was too much to dwell on.

Rufus leaned back in the chair, resting his hand on top of Tseng’s on the edge of the bed and curling his fingers around his. It felt more intimate than anything they had ever shared.

“We’ll just be friends…with benefits,” Rufus said. “That’s an easy enough ground rule, isn’t it?”

Considering Rufus was the first true friend Tseng had made in years, he didn’t really know what navigating the complexities of ‘friends with benefits’ looked like, or that it looked much different than ‘having very inappropriate relations with your boss’, but he had been past the point of no return for too long to really worry about it.

“Right,” he agreed.

Friends with benefits. A friend who happened to fly a helicopter hundreds of miles to rescue him while he lay concussed and bleeding in the snow, and for whom he had taken a bullet - would do so again without hesitation if the situation arose.

Just friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy these two idiots huh? 
> 
> my favorite part of crisis core is when zack yells for tseng after the helicopter crash and he's literally - LITERALLY - right behind him. also you're welcome for sparing you a me, gongaga? moment.
> 
> thank you for reading! more soon.


	14. Loudmouth

It was upon Rufus’ insistence that Tseng decided to spend his three week leave in the apartment on the fortieth floor. Tseng had protested, but not much. His bed at home was nowhere near as comfortable as the one in Rufus’ apartment, and staying at headquarters allowed him to have access to his doctors and other care staff at all hours of the day. The only problem was that Rufus was also incredibly insistent that he follow the doctors orders, which for the first week of recovery meant no screens whatsoever, no strenuous activity, no thinking. Just a lot of sitting around in dark rooms with his eyes closed to recover from the concussion.

There wasn’t even really the added benefit of Rufus’ company because he was so busy in his new role as Vice President that he was hardly around. This left Tseng bored and frustrated and frequently alone. He didn’t know what do with himself if he couldn’t be busy - he had never even taken a day of vacation in the eleven years he had been a Turk.

Spending all day in one spot wasn’t something Tseng could abide, so he did periodically get up and hobble around, even though he wasn’t supposed to be walking either. It wasn’t as though he was walking very far - just from his bedroom to the sitting room and back again. Whenever he grew bored of staring at the ceiling in the bedroom, he would limp out to the living room and lie down on the settee to stare at the ceiling in there, at least mildly entertained by the dancing light the flames from the fireplace threw across the ceiling.

On his third day of recovery, Zack came by sporting a bandage on his arm with a bouquet of flowers which he set on the coffee table hesitantly. Tseng would have recognized Aerith’s flowers anywhere.

“I uh…just came by to see how you were doing,” Zack said, hovering uncertainly next to the chair that faced the settee.

“Why don’t you sit, Zack?” Tseng was truly desperate for company if he was willingly inviting Zack to talk his ear off. Two days of virtual solitude and he was finding out that maybe he wasn’t as cut out for being alone as he thought.

Zack stared at the chair and only sat when Tseng prompted him again. “I told Aerith about what happened and she asked me to bring you those. She said she hopes you feel better soon.”

“Hm.” Tseng stared at the flowers. “Tell her thank you. I heard about Hewley. I know you two were close. I’m…sorry.” Hewley had been killed while Zack was apprehending Hollander in Modeoheim.

Zack stared at his hands where they lay in his lap. He sighed heavily. “Yeah…thanks.” Tseng had never seen him look anything but chipper and upbeat before. It was disconcerting.

“So…the Vice President is taking care of you?”

“We’re not going to discuss that,” Tseng said firmly.

“Right, sorry. How’s your leg…and your head?”

“They’ll be fine. A doctor comes once a day to tend to the leg with materia, but I have to wear this cast for two weeks while it heals. How is your friend? Cloud?”

Zack’s frown lightened somewhat. “He’s doing okay. I still think it was mean of you to tell him he couldn’t make it in SOLDIER.”

“Would you tell anyone to join, knowing what you know now?” Tseng asked.

Zack looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe not. I don’t know anymore.”

A silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Tseng stared at the flowers sitting on the coffee table. How sad that they would die after a few days.

“Well…I guess I’ll get going. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And to thank you for making us get you to Modeoheim. We never would have caught Hollander if you hadn’t. Even though things turned out the way they did…if we can find an answer for why Angeal did what he did…if we can understand what happened…I guess it will have been worth it.”

For a moment, he looked far older than his sixteen years. It was a shame what SOLDIER did, chewing up young boys and spitting them out after they had been drained of all their hope.

“Thank you for stopping by, Zack,” said Tseng. And he meant it.

* * *

Four days in Rufus’ apartment and Tseng didn’t see him at all in that time. It wasn’t until the fourth night, when he had just finally drifted to sleep, that he felt someone climb into bed next to him. His eyes snapped open, temporarily alarmed at the intrusion, until he realized it was only Rufus.

“Did I wake you?” Rufus asked.

“Yes.”

“Well no need to sugar coat it.”

“You woke me. Was I supposed to lie?” Tseng yawned.

Rufus curled against his side, his body warm against Tseng’s. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“All I do is sleep.” Yet he was still struggling to keep his eyes open as Rufus’ nose brushed lightly against his cheek.

“You got knocked in the head with a metal pipe. You’re lucky your skull didn’t crack. All you should be doing is sleeping.”

“Hm.”

Rufus kissed Tseng’s cheek, combing his hand through his hair. “You look peaceful.”

Tseng opened one eye and turned his head toward Rufus. “I can’t sleep if you keep talking.” And he allowed himself a grin.

“Oh, a rare smile,” Rufus said, brushing his lips against Tseng’s. “I don’t get to see that often.”

“Don’t start kissing me. I’m not supposed to exert myself.” Tseng rolled onto his side, turning his back to Rufus, who merely curled against it, draping his arm over his waist.

“And what?” Rufus asked, pressing his lips against the nape of Tseng’s neck. “You’re worried you won’t be able to stop if I start things?”

“I’m simply operating based on previous experience.”

“All right.” Rufus nestled his head beside Tseng’s. “Go to sleep.”

* * *

It was easier said than done for Tseng to avoid exerting himself whenever Rufus was in the room. More than once in the first week they had been forced to stop themselves - it seemed now that they were back together for once, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other again. It always started innocently enough with a little light kissing and groping, but it never stopped there. Rufus’ solution was to put actual physical distance between them by sitting in the chair next to the bed and attempting to catch up on work related talk.

Tseng _did_ want to catch up, though it wasn’t what he would have preferred to do. But orders were orders and while he would risk a lot for Rufus, he felt the potential for permanent brain damage if he didn’t recover from his concussion trumped the need to have proper sex for the first time in more than a month.

So Rufus caught him up on his new role as Vice President, which entailed attending every single executive meeting that his father called, and mostly being under his father’s thumb all hours of the day. He was expected to appear at more events than ever thanks to his new role, and sour about his inferior security team.

‘None of them would be able to stop someone from killing me like you did.’

This was probably by his father’s design. Could the President stop Rufus from requesting a Turk on his detail?

“Ask Veld for Reno,” Tseng suggested. “He can’t say no and I doubt your father could give a good reason for stronger security without it being obvious that he wants you out of the way.”

“Maybe Rude instead of Sinclair.”

Rufus made no secret of his distaste for Reno. Tseng didn’t quite understand - while Reno easily got on his nerves, he was amiable and talented at his job. Tseng trusted him, even if he didn’t want to spend too much time with him. At any rate, he seemed like someone Rufus would have gotten along with. They both seemed to enjoy drinking and both seemed to share equally prolific sex lives.

“Why don’t you like Reno?” Tseng asked. “Competition at the Honeybee Inn?” He laughed.

Rufus stared out the window. “Not quite.”

“What then? Now I’m genuinely curious what he did. He runs his mouth at so many people. I don’t blame you for not liking him, though.”

“We uh…” Rufus was refusing to meet his gaze.

“Excuse me?” Tseng balked. “You what?”

“I had sex with him!” Rufus growled. “Once. A long time ago. It was…an indiscretion.”

Tseng blinked at him. “You had sex with Reno.”

“Don’t make something out of it…”

“I’m not making anything out of it. I just can’t believe it.” Tseng supposed he shouldn’t have been that surprised. He had seen some of the people Rufus had paraded through his bedroom and he had unfortunately done far worse than Reno. He didn’t particularly want to dwell on it for too long either though.

“Well, you can see why I’d prefer Rude on my detail.”

“Reno…” Tseng shook his head.

Rufus folded his arms and pouted. “You’re making something out of it.”

“Don’t pout,” Tseng chided. “I’m not.”

“I’m not pouting. I don’t pout. Pouting is something children do.”

“Children,” Tseng agreed. “And spoiled little rich boys, apparently.” He couldn’t suppress his grin at this.

Rufus flung himself onto the bed and smothered Tseng’s face in kisses. “This is the same mouth that kissed Reno.” He shouted childishly between each kiss. “Same mouth!”

“Stop!” Tseng couldn’t help his laughter. “Stop it!” He shoved at Rufus’ face.

“Take back what you said.” Rufus leaned over him. “I’m not a spoiled little rich boy.”

“You are,” Tseng said. He brushed his nose against Rufus’. “But I like you anyway.”

Their lips came together in a soft, delicate kiss and then Rufus rolled onto his back, satisfied with Tseng’s answer.

“Well anyway,” Rufus said. “You’ve got a nicer cock than Reno.”

* * *

After the first week of lying around doing nothing, Tseng was allowed access to his phone and laptop once the doctor was satisfied that he was showing positive signs of recovery. This meant catching up on hundreds of e-mails and dozens of text messages once he was reunited with his electronics. He typed up his report on the Modeoheim mission to Veld only to receive an e-mail ten minutes later chiding him for working during his sick leave.

This was why Tseng never took any time off. He had too much responsibility as the now second-in-command of the Turks. He couldn’t afford to lose another two weeks to his e-mail inbox.

He gathered, after catching up with everything, that Reno and Elena had been put in charge of interrogating Hollander. He was being kept in a cell in Junon - there was too much concern that Genesis, who had reportedly been killed, was alive and simply biding his time; that he might stage another attack on headquarters to try and free the scientist. They didn’t want the President put at risk again. Meanwhile, Zack had been placed on a forced leave and was essentially on house arrest at the Shinra Villa in Costa del Sol. Cissnei was overseeing his stay - he knew too many secrets to be wandering around between missions.

Privately, Tseng worried about the boy. What would Shinra do to him when he had outlived his usefulness? He and Sephiroth were the only remaining firsts left, though from the few e-mails Zack sent, it seemed Sephiroth had taken the boy under his wing, so to speak. Hard to imagine.

“Have you been working all day?” Rufus asked as he returned to the apartment late in the evening to find Tseng draped across the settee typing rapidly on his phone.

“I had a week’s worth of information to catch up on,” Tseng sighed. “I couldn’t help it.”

Rufus shrugged his jacket off and leaned over the arm of the settee, rubbing Tseng’s shoulders and nuzzling against his neck. “You need to use this time to relax.”

“Hm.” Tseng closed his eyes. Rufus’ thumb dug into a knot in his shoulder and he moaned softly.

“When’s that ban on strenuous activity up?” Rufus whispered.

“Not until my cast is off.”

“Well. Why don’t I help you relax?” He pressed his lips against the soft skin behind Tseng’s ear, letting his hands stray across Tseng’s chest.

He hadn’t had any release after the botched moment in Rufus’ office when Zack had walked in on them and he had to admit that nothing sounded better after a day of trying to catch up with work. He was especially inclined to let Rufus do whatever he wanted when his hands were running up and down his chest and his mouth was glued to his neck.

“Okay,” Tseng sighed, lifting a hand behind him to stroke Rufus’ head.

Rufus moved to the edge of the settee and leaned over Tseng, kissing him while his hand strayed south, into Tseng’s underwear. A little jolt of pleasure rocketed up Tseng’s spine as he moaned into Rufus’ mouth. Rufus broke away, his lips hovering close to Tseng’s for a moment before he kissed a path down his neck and his chest, running his tongue across Tseng’s navel, down to the edge of his underwear, shoving the offending garment of clothing down to his ankles as he slid to his knees on the floor. He ghosted his lips over the head of Tseng’s cock and Tseng’s entire body ached with anticipation.

Rufus’ tongue darted out, gliding over the slit, his hand gripping Tseng’s cock at the base.

“Oh Gods, Rufus, please don’t tease. I can’t,” Tseng begged.

“Don’t they teach you how to deal with torture in Turk academy?” Rufus laughed, his lips still ghosting around Tseng’s flesh. This was worse agony than breaking his leg, he was sure. “It’s just so fun to make you beg for it.”

Tseng leaned his head back and groaned. His heartbeat was positively throbbing between his legs.

Rufus bobbed his head, kissing the base of his cock and moving his way up to the head at an agonizing pace. Tseng clutched at the edge of the settee and his hips bucked involuntarily. Another impatient groan left the back of his throat. He had never wanted anything so badly, he was certain of it.

“Rufus, please,” he gasped.

Rufus’ tongue swirled against the head of his cock, still teasing. “Are you getting angry?” He purred. “What are you going to do about it?”

Frankly, there was a reason Tseng preferred to be on the bottom during sex. He had never been good at being aggressive in the bedroom. He liked to be led. Rufus was goading him on in an attempt to get him to do something more forceful, but that just made him feel awkward.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, exasperated.

Rufus sat back on his legs with a frown. “It’s not really sexy if you have to ask.”

“I’m not good at this,” Tseng sighed. “You have to tell me what you want.”

“Just pull on my hair a little,” Rufus suggested. “Gods, do you really never do this?”

“I’m usually the one having my hair pulled.”

Rufus laughed. “All right.” He grabbed Tseng’s hand and placed it on the back of his head before resuming his position. Tseng curled his fingers against Rufus’ hair. Then, mercifully, Rufus brought his mouth around Tseng’s cock and bobbed his head, his hand covering what his mouth couldn’t. Tseng moaned and tugged lightly on Rufus’ hair, which earned him a moan from Rufus in return.

The feeling of Rufus’ mouth gliding up and down his cock was so pleasurable that for a moment, it was all Tseng could think about. He had to remind himself to tug occasionally at Rufus’ hair, which always resulted in a satisfied little moan on Rufus’ part. It wasn’t so bad, actually - he just had to know Rufus wanted it.

His lips and his tongue, combined with the slick sounds of his movement, were quickly driving Tseng to the edge. He leaned his head back and focused on the pleasure mounting in his body. Rufus’ tongue swirled around the head of his cock and he felt a little warning jolt…he was so close.

Rufus’ name left his mouth in a throaty moan. His breath grew ragged, his fingers curling tightly against Rufus’ head. He arched his back, his other hand clawing at the back of the settee as every nerve in his body seemed to fire at once, culminating in a white hot pulse behind his eyes. He spilled himself inside Rufus’ mouth and he fell, boneless, against the settee, a pleasant stupor washing over him.

“There,” Rufus said, wiping his mouth. “Don’t you feel better?”

Tseng gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “For the record,” he said softly. “I’d rather know what you want and risk killing the mood.”

Rufus moved from the floor back to the edge of the settee and leaned against his chest, kissing his nose. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Let me get you,” Tseng said, reaching his hand down between Rufus’ legs.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll have my fun when that cast is off of you.”

Tseng was content not to press the issue. Nothing sounded better than lying back against the settee with Rufus pressed against him, so he stayed where he was and closed his eyes, content - for the moment at least.

* * *

“I wanna know how you got lucky enough to shack up here instead of those closets Shinra calls apartments in Sector One,” Reno said as he barged into the apartment one afternoon while Tseng was undergoing materia therapy with the doctor. He fell onto the couch by the fireplace and propped his feet, dirt-caked boots and all, on the expensive coffee table, observing Tseng where he sat in the chair across from him while the doctor applied restore materia.

“Nice to see you too, Reno,” Tseng greeted him.

“Seriously, who’d you have to fuck to get these digs?” Reno fished a cigarette from his pocket. “You think Rufus’ll care?”

“No, but I do.”

Reno lit up anyway. “So, the boss man took a shining to you huh?”

“The Vice President and I have a good working relationship,” Tseng said with a noncommittal shrug. “I spent eight months as his bodyguard and took a bullet for him. We have learned to get along. Staying here allows me to have easy access to my doctors.”

“Hm,” Reno took a drag of his cigarette and gave Tseng an incomprehensible look.

“Besides,” Tseng continued. “The Vice President is rarely home these days. I’ve had limited interaction with him.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” the doctor interrupted their conversation. “We should be able to remove the cast in a few more days.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Reno waited a moment after the doctor left to launch into his questioning. “So you got any updates on Rufus or what? He’s Vice President now, so what’s the deal? What’s our next move? Is he gonna have us off his old man?”

“He is still funding anti-Shinra dissidents. Now that he’s been appointed Vice President he also has the benefit of trying to win over the executives. He already has Veld on his side. I think Reeve Tuesti may be malleable on this issue as well. The rest will respond to whoever holds the power.”

“Speaking of, d’you hear about Lazard?”

“I saw the briefing,” Tseng nodded. Lazard Deusericus had deserted. Lacking a real hierarchy, SOLDIER was quickly falling into disarray. Veld was operating as the temporary head of both SOLDIER and the Turks, but it was likely Heidegger would simply fold in Lazard’s duties with his own soon. “A mess. Part of the current President’s problem. He has his hands in too many pots and the work he allowed Gast to start and Hojo to continue has led to this disaster.”

“You should tell him that to his face,” Reno laughed. He tipped his ashes into the fireplace.

“How is your interrogation going?”

“Which?” Reno snorted. “We’ve got Hollander locked up in Junon and Tennyson locked up here. Not getting much out of either of them, but Elena’s pretty good at playing good cop bad cop with me.”

“You’re the good cop?”

“Of course not!”

Tseng laughed. “Just…try to keep your relationship with Elena professional.” He did feel like a hypocrite for dispensing the advice, but Reno was handsy and flirtatious and Elena was young and impressionable.

Reno wrinkled his nose. “Elena’s like a kid. To be honest, I don’t think she’d even know what to do with a cock, you know?”

The apartment door flew open and Rufus stepped in. “I could kill Heidegger. That blubbering idiot.” He had his back turned to them and was removing his shoes, unaware of Reno’s presence. “When do you get that cast off? I need to decompress and as much as I love that mouth of yours, your ass-”

“ _Sir_ ,” Tseng interrupted quickly, though not quickly enough, trying desperately to control his own biology and keep his face from going red. “Reno stopped by to pay me a visit.”

Rufus spun around, his mouth ajar. “Sinclair,” he said. Tseng had rarely seen Rufus at a loss for words, but right now he was clearly trying to think of anything to say to explain himself.

It was too late. Reno had already put the pieces together. His mouth fell open in a wicked grin and he pointed back and forth between Tseng and Rufus.

“You two are _fucking!?_ ”

“What?” Rufus gaped. “We’re not-”

“Oh, that’s _rich_.” Reno hopped to his feet. “You’re riding my dick about not fooling around with Elena and you’re fucking the gods damned boss? Hoo,” he started laughing. “Holy shit. Shiva’s tits. You’re fucking Rufus fucking Shinra? Oh man, Tseng. _Rufus Shinra_?”

Tseng could not help the heat rising up his neck now. He exchanged a look with Rufus, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Reno, you’re mistaken,” he said calmly.

“No I’m NOT!” Reno was still laughing. He fell back into the chair clutching his stomach. “Tseng ‘never breaks a rule’ Liu is sleeping with the boss. You know, honestly I thought you were like some sexless robot? This is so much better.”

“Enough.” Rufus grabbed Reno by the hair and yanked until Reno let out a yelp. “You need to exercise some discretion, Reno.”

Reno swatted at Rufus’ hand. “Relax, I won’t tell anybody. You know how many people I’ve slept with that could get me fired?” He smirked at Rufus as he said this and Tseng bristled. “I just think it’s really fucking rich, Tseng acting all holier than thou about this shit and he’s breaking the same damn rules.”

“Reno, I apologize,” Tseng said. “But please keep this to yourself.”

“Yeah, okay.” Reno held his hands up. “But you better know you’re sloppy seconds.”

Tseng pursed his lips. “We have discussed that.”

At this, Reno snorted. “Man, I’m gonna keep this one in the vault.” He stood up and flicked his cigarette into the fire. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to fuck in peace.” He saw himself out, still laughing.

Tseng glared at Rufus and he frowned. “What!?”

“Could you be a little more observant next time you come waltzing into the room?” He shoved himself out of the chair and hobbled away down the hallway before Rufus could say anything else. Turks protected each other, so he knew Reno wouldn’t say anything, but that was two people now that knew about their ‘friends with benefits’ situation. It could get out of control if they weren’t careful.

Rufus followed him into the bedroom a moment later, tossing his coat onto the chair by the window. “You’re really angry at me?”

Tseng stared at the coat draped haphazardly over the chair. “You never hang that up. What is so hard about hanging it up?”

“What?” Rufus looked back at the coat. “Who cares? It’s not a suit.”

“It’s just irritating. You just dump it on the floor half the time. I was always picking it up when I was your bodyguard.”

“Who cares about the fucking coat?” Rufus barked. He picked it up and threw it on the ground. “Who cares?”

“Oh, that’s mature, Rufus.”

“You’re the one who’s yelling at me over something I couldn’t help and this stupid coat.”

“I didn’t yell,” Tseng said calmly.

Rufus clenched his fists. “Oh yes, you’re always so calm and collected about everything, aren’t you?”

“Rufus.”

“What?”

“Are either of us really mad at each other?” Tseng sighed.

Rufus relaxed a little, flexing his fingers. “No. I’m mad at Sinclair.”

“You’re mad at the situation. It’s not Reno’s fault he found out.”

“Why do you have to be so damn level-headed all the time?” He growled. He picked his coat up off the floor and walked it over to the closet, placing it on a hanger before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Tseng sat up and rested his head against Rufus’ shoulder. “One of us has to be.”

They sat like that for a while in a comfortable silence. It seemed that their relationship was either too much time together or not enough and Tseng wondered if there would ever be a day where they might have a balance.

“Reno won’t tell anyone,” Tseng said after few minutes.

“The rule was it was fine inside the apartment,” Rufus sighed. “It was supposed to be that simple.”

“Well,” Tseng said, kissing Rufus’ neck. “No one’s here now.”

Rufus grinned and leaned back against him. “I like your line of thinking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u/TsengtheTurk: my (30, M) boss (24, M) and I are living together, we spoon and have regular sex. He takes care of me when I'm not well. Are we in a relationship?
> 
> Thanks for reading. More soon!


	15. Surprise

As soon as Tseng’s cast was off and the end of his three week leave was up, Veld had an assignment ready for him. A number of unidentified objects had turned up on radar off the coast of Junon and there was some degree of concern it could be another attack by Genesis. The President wanted to stay ahead of it, so Tseng’s mission was to take Sephiroth and retrieve Zack from Costa del Sol, then see them both to Junon to prepare for a likely siege on the city. The number one priority was keeping Hollander in Shinra’s hands.

Tseng wasn’t looking forward to a flight overseas with Sephiroth. He only met the man a few times, but found him intimidating. He was of course, a war hero, and had apparently been acting as a mentor to Zack since Hewley’s death, but Tseng was uneasy around him all the same - probably because he was simply uneasy around most SOLDIERS and Sephiroth was the most famous of them.

“How long will you be gone?” Rufus asked. He would not let Tseng get out of bed and the last thing Tseng wanted was to be late to catch his flight with Sephiroth.

“I don’t know. I never know,” Tseng sighed, kissing him and pushing him away.

“Hm.” Rufus rubbed his face into his pillow. “I have seven meetings today.”

“Somehow, we’ll both survive.” Though Tseng was poking fun at him, he would have much rather been in the action in Junon than spend his entire day in the conference room in meetings.

“Just be careful. The SOLDIER thing is a mess.”

“I’ll try not to break any bones this time.”

By the time Tseng got dressed, Rufus had fallen back asleep, so he left him, slipping out of the apartment and running headlong into President Shinra in the hallway between the two apartments. His heart dropped into his stomach as the President stared at him.

“Uh, sir.” Tseng squared his shoulders and held his hands behind his back. “After you.”

The President looked him up and down. “One of Veld’s men, are you?”

“I was the Vice President’s bodyguard, sir.”

“Ah. Right. The one who never turned up anything on my son. What was your name again, boy?”

“Tseng Liu, sir.”

“Tseng, right.” He lit up a cigar and shuffled down the hallway. “What were you doing in my son’s apartment?”

_Lie. Lie. Lie._

“I snuck in, sir. Veld’s orders. Trying to find more information.”

The President stopped and stared at him for a long moment. “Find anything?”

“Unfortunately not, sir.”

“Hmph. Useless crows.” He stepped into the elevator and smashed the door-close button before Tseng could get in with him, not that Tseng made any attempt to do so.

Tseng leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief, then he made his way up to the roof.

Sephiroth was waiting on the tarmac with his arms behind his back, his black cloak billowing out behind him as he looked out at the city. Tseng stood behind him and cleared his throat. They were technically equivalent in rank - an executive Turk was at the same level as a SOLDIER, first class - but something about Sephiroth’s commanding presence made Tseng feel like he should address him as ‘sir’.

“Ah. Tseng. Nice to see you.” Sephiroth turned to face him.

“You as well,” Tseng stood stiffly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Certainly.”

The two of them walked along the tarmac to the waiting helicopter and climbed in. Tseng couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than being stuck in a chopper with Zack, who never shut up. Sephiroth stared out the window with a mild expression and said,

“Zack speaks highly of you.”

“Oh,” Tseng shifted in his seat. “Zack is a…”

“You needn’t be so nervous around me,” Sephiroth laughed. “I’m only human. At least as far as I know.”

Tseng attempted to relax. “Zack is a good kid.”

“Yes,” Sephiroth agreed.

Too young to be mixed up in this, Tseng thought, but didn’t give voice to it.

It was a long flight to Costa del Sol, but after a little stiff conversation, the two men fell into an amiable silence. Tseng felt a little bad for Sephiroth, really. From what he knew of SOLDIER, he and the two firsts who had deserted had been close friends. Now Hewley was dead and Genesis was…well, Tseng didn’t really know. It wasn’t his job to know as much as it was to neutralize the situation and keep anything from leaking to the general public. Protect Shinra’s secrets at all cost, even if he didn’t always know what those secrets were.

Something told him Sephiroth wouldn’t take kindly to his pity, so he didn’t broach the subject.

When the helicopter touched down in the sunny beach town, Sephiroth remained with the chopper while Tseng left to fetch Zack. He found him inside the sprawling Shinra Villa, seated at a table playing cards with Cissnei and looking glum.

“Hope you’re being careful, Fair,” Tseng greeted him. “Cissnei cleans up at these games.”

Cissnei was quick to her feet, squaring her shoulders and greeting him with a, “Sir.”

Then Tseng felt like he’d been hit by a truck as Zack slammed into him - all solid muscle - and squeezed him into a hug. Tseng stumbled backward and placed his palm firmly on Zack’s forehead, pushing him away and smoothing the wrinkles from his suit.

“Aw, come on, man. I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“Turks don’t do hugs,” Tseng said, but he allowed himself a small smile.

Zack laughed and grabbed his bags from the hallway. “I can’t wait to get back in the action. I’m sick of sitting around here. It’s not very fair of you guys. You could have let me stay in Midgar.” He sighed as he returned to where Tseng and Cissnei waited. “At least then I could have spent some time with Aerith.”

“I’m afraid I had no say in the matter. I’m sure Cissnei was adequate company.”

The young redhead laughed. “We had a good time, didn’t we, Zack?”

“Yeah, well, I guess it could have been worse. Are we getting out of here or what?”

The three of them walked back to the helicopter and climbed in. Sephiroth and Zack greeted each other warmly and the entire trip to Junon was spent with Zack filling the silence with every thought in his head. He asked Tseng several times about Aerith, and Tseng had to remind him that he had been off duty for the last three weeks and thus had not checked in on her recently.

“Tseng said SOLDIER and the Turks don’t usually get along, but I hadn’t even met a Turk until I met him,” Zack told Sephiroth.

“Reno Sinclair has done a lot of that damage,” Tseng said quickly.

Sephiroth quirked his eyebrow. “Now, Tseng. Credit where credit’s due. You’ve poached quite a few SOLDIER recruits for your team, or are those rumors unfounded?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified,” said Tseng, with the faintest hint of a smile.

Zack leaned forward, eyes wide. “Tseng, did you just make a joke?”

“I’m not familiar with the concept.”

Sephiroth laughed at this and Zack looked excitedly between them.

“When we land in Junon, the two of you should station yourselves on the top tier of the city,” Tseng explained. “Cissnei and I will meet Reno and Elena to keep watch over Hollander. There hasn’t been much movement on the radar, but we know they’re out there and we need to be ready.”

When the helicopter came to rest on the landing pad at the top of the city, they parted ways, Cissnei following Tseng into the Shinra building facing the sea. The interrogation chambers were on the tenth floor, past a number of well-guarded security doors. There were fewer chambers at the Junon facility than in Midgar, and most of them were unoccupied, but they found Reno and Elena at the end of a long hallway, Elena holding Hollander still while Reno peeled one of his nails from the skin. Hollander writhed and shrieked, sweat beading on his face, but when Reno was finished, he only spit in his face and refused to speak.

Reno stepped out of the interrogation room with a huff, wiping sweat from his face with a towel that was hanging on the door handle. He looked up at Tseng and Cissnei with a grimace.

“We’ve been at this for two weeks. Nothing makes that asshole wanna talk.”

“You’ll have to keep trying. What news is there about Genesis?”

Reno shrugged. “Fuck if I know. They saw some shit on the radar and then it wasn’t there and then it was again. They’ve got a submarine out chasing ghosts. This place is locked down, though. Hollander won’t have a chance to escape. That’s a promise.”

* * *

Hollander had escaped. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really, except to say it was definitely SOLDIER’S fault for abandoning their posts to deal with the attack on the city. Tseng spent four days overseeing Hollander’s interrogation with Reno and Elena while a submarine attempted to track down whatever had been picked up on the radar, only to end up blown to pieces as Genesis and his copies inevitably attacked. Zack and Sephiroth fought with him, but in the end, both Genesis and Hollander escaped and the city was left in chaos.

Four days of wasted time. They didn’t manage to get single scrap of information out of Hollander - he must have known that Genesis was coming for him. Tseng felt miserable, and judging by the looks on his colleague’s faces, they were feeling equally morose. They left for Midgar on the fifth night, once some semblance of order had been restored to Junon and the witnesses had been dealt with. Culling witnesses was never an enjoyable task, but it was worse when it was riding on the tail of unmitigated failure.

“This fucking sucks,” Reno huffed, watching Junon disappear behind them.

Elena sighed. “How did things go so wrong?”

It was a snowball effect caused by so many decisions that the President made decades ago.

“When we get back to Midgar, I’m going to one of those fancy clubs on the plate and getting blasted,” Reno said. “Wipe the slate clean. You coming?” He asked Elena and Cissnei.

“Actually, we already made plans,” Cissnei shrugged. “We know the kind of clubs you go to, Reno. Not interested.”

“What about you?” Reno kicked Tseng’s shin. “Take a load off for once, man. Don’t you ever just want to get so wasted you don’t remember the shit you do every day?”

All Tseng wanted to do was see Rufus. They had barely even exchanged a text in the last few days because the two of them were so busy. He never would have imagined he would miss his time as a bodyguard, but spending every waking moment with the only person he really felt connected with sounded a lot better than this. Besides that, he was so unhappy with their failure in Junon that he needed to vent, and Rufus was always a good sounding board.

“I’ll have to pass,” Tseng said.

“Yeah,” Reno smirked. “I know where you’re going.”

Tseng shot him a warning look and Elena and Cissnei exchanged a glance, but knew better than to pry.

When the helicopter landed, Elena and Cissnei were the first out, with Reno hopping out after them, slinging his arms around their shoulders and saying, “Are you ladies sure I can’t interest in you in a night out?”

Elena promptly grabbed Reno’s arm and flipped him over her shoulder onto the ground. For someone so tiny, she was remarkably strong. “We’re good,” she said, and the two women disappeared into the elevator.

Tseng stopped where Reno lay groaning. “You deserved that,” he said.

“Ah, fuck off.” Reno righted himself. “I’m going to go find Rude and get the fuck out of here.”

They rode the elevator together, Reno stepping off at the fiftieth floor and Tseng continuing down to the fortieth. He hoped Rufus was even home - his schedule so so unpredictable anymore. If he wasn’t, then he would just wait, maybe even indulge in a drink from the bar cart while he relaxed. Anything to take his mind off of the last five days.

He let himself into the apartment - if Rufus was in bed, he wanted to surprise him. Just as he was setting his suitcase on the ground and closing the door quietly behind him, he heard the sounds.

A man and a woman’s moans were mingling with Rufus’ down the hallway. Tseng froze in the entranceway. It felt like an icy hand had taken hold of his heart. What was he thinking? He should have called or texted. Of course Rufus had someone else over. Why _wouldn’t_ he have had someone else over? Just because Tseng made no attempts to sleep with anyone else didn’t meant Rufus wouldn’t. His stupid insatiable libido almost guaranteed it - and Tseng knew he had no right to feel upset.

The moaning stopped. Tseng was still frozen in place as he heard Rufus say,

“I’ll be right back.”

He needed to leave. This was a mistake. It wasn’t his apartment and Rufus wasn’t his-

At any rate he didn’t have the right to just come barging in whenever he wanted.

“Tseng.” Rufus stuttered to a halt as he entered the sitting room. He was stark naked and glistening with sweat.

“I…uh…” Tseng took a step backwards. “I’m sorry, I was just leaving.”

“Wait, Tseng. Listen-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” Tseng shook his head. “I’ll just get out of your hair.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be back. I haven’t heard from you all week,” Rufus protested.

“That’s fine.” A heat was rising in Tseng’s face. “My fault. Enjoy your evening.” He stepped back out into the hallway and moved to the elevator as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wasn’t allowed to feel angry. They were just friends. So why did it feel like someone had plunged a knife into his chest? He wasn’t naive, he knew Rufus still slept around, that he wasn’t just biding his time waiting for Tseng between missions. But it was something else to have to walk in on it now, after all they had been through together.

Suddenly Tseng understood Reno’s desire to obliterate all thought. When was the last time he really let loose? Probably not since academy.

He made his way up to the fiftieth floor, desperately hoping, for perhaps the first time ever, to catch Reno before he left the building. As luck would have it, he ran into Reno and Rude waiting for the elevator when the doors opened.

“Whoa, that was quick,” Reno greeted him. “What gives?”

“I changed my mind. I want to go to the club with you.”

“All right Tseng!” Reno slung an arm around his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator. “We’ve never even had a drink together, can you believe that? I’ve been a Turk for five years and not once have I even seen you take a sip of alcohol.”

“I had some sake with him on his birthday,” Rude said.

“ _What!?_ ” Reno barked. “I wasn’t invited?”

“He was by himself in the lounge. Nobody knew it was his birthday.” Rude shrugged. “So I got some sake.”

“I bet that was a real riot. Did you two just sit across the table staring at each other saying nothing the whole time?”

“I told him happy birthday.”

“He did,” Tseng agreed.

Reno scoffed, but it was obvious he was annoyed Rude had a leg up on him in any department. The only thing Tseng could think about were the sounds he heard coming from Rufus’ room, the look of stunned shock on his face when he saw Tseng standing in the entrance way. Why did he feel like this? It _hurt_ \- an actual physical pain in his chest - at the thought of it.

Tseng didn’t know one club from another in any sector, but Reno seemed to know them all and he took them to a surprisingly up-scale nightclub in Sector One, filled with well-dressed, attractive people wearing tight clothes and grinding against each other on a dance floor while a dull beat pounded in the background. Reno grabbed a round of drinks while Tseng and Rude took up residence in a booth against the far wall that offered a view of the dance floor, but was far enough away from the thrum of the speakers that they might actually hear themselves think.

“I don’t know what you like,” Reno said, returning with an entire platter full of drinks. “So I just got a ton of different shit.” He shoved a cocktail of some sort into Tseng’s hand and he attempted to knock it back quickly, only to choke at the burning sting as it went down his throat.

“Man you really don’t drink, huh?” Reno sidled into the booth next to him and took a shot of something without flinching. Rude sipped quietly on a beer.

“I just want to wipe this day from my brain,” Tseng groaned. The alcohol made his face warm as it settled in his stomach. He leaned heavily against the back of the booth and choked back more of the drink.

“We can do that,” Reno said, sidling closer. He picked a few drinks off the platter and set them in front of Tseng. “Try these.”

Tseng recalled that Rufus once told him Reno flirted with him frequently. He hadn’t believed him, but Reno seemed eager to be close to him in the booth. There was plenty of space for him to back away, but he was right against Tseng’s side, knocking back drinks and groaning as he recounted the disaster in Junon to Rude.

It was miserable being in that club, watching other people rub against each other. Tseng wanted nothing more than to relax alone with Rufus and vent to him about the terrible week he’d had. Instead he was in this club getting progressively drunker as Reno shoved drinks into his hands, and feeling progressively worse about what he walked in on in Rufus’ apartment.

But after enough drinks, he didn’t really feel anything except a pleasant airiness. Reno chattered in his ear and he listened, his senses becoming more and more muddled with each drink.

“C’mon and take a shot of tequila with me,” Reno prodded.

“I haven’t done a shot since I was…” Tseng thought for a moment. Too long.

But Reno already had his fingers curled around his hand. “Lick your hand and hold it out for me. You doing one, Rude?”

Rude scoffed. “I don’t think so.” He was watching Tseng and Reno with a furrowed brow.

Why the hell did it matter anyway? Rufus was having fun. Shouldn’t he?

The problem was that getting drunk with Reno was not his idea of fun. Still, he licked his hand and let Reno shake some salt onto it, taking the lime wedge that was offered along with the shot.

“You even know what to do?” Reno raised his eyebrows. He was drunk, not that it was easy to notice at first. The volume of his voice increased substantially after the sixth drink.

“I lick the salt, I suck the lime.” Tseng blinked languidly as he stared at his drink. His balance felt off.

“Like this,” Reno took Tseng’s hand and pressed his lips between his thumb and forefinger where the salt was, dragging his tongue along the skin and causing a _very_ unwelcome tingle to run down Tseng’s spine. Then he knocked back his shot and sucked on his lime, offering his hand up to Tseng in return.

Tseng stared at it.

“You’re walking a real fine line, Reno,” Rude said as he took another sip of his drink.

“Ah, shut up. Are you going to take the shot or what, Tseng?”

He was frankly far too drunk to consider the full consequences of what was happening. He just wanted to stop thinking about Rufus. He grabbed Reno’s hand and sucked the salt from it, downing his own shot and sticking the lime in his mouth to cut the sting. Reno laughed, another drink already in his hand.

“So what made you decide to come out with us anyway?” Reno asked.

Tseng slumped his head against the back of the booth. “Rufus was busy.”

He was vaguely aware of Rude mouthing ‘Rufus?’ to Reno and Reno waving a dismissive hand at him.

“Ah. Pretty boy didn’t have time for you. That’s too bad.” Reno was closer now, breathing against his neck. “Why don’t you let me take your mind off of it?”

When Tseng lifted his head he found himself nose to nose with Reno, who was staring very pointedly at his lips. This wasn’t a good idea.

“You two have had too much to drink,” Rude said. “Maybe-”

But Reno’s lips were already against Tseng’s and he was drunk enough to let it happen, to not even mind it that much. It wasn’t so bad really, because it meant Reno couldn’t talk. His tongue swirled against Tseng’s, ashy tasting from all those cigarettes. Wouldn’t it just piss Rufus off he slept with Reno? He couldn’t stand him.

_Oh that’s good, let’s just break another rule while we’re at it and sleep with one of our subordinates._

Time wasn’t really operating the way it ought to. Reno was in his lap now, grinding against him while they kissed. Rude said something, and Reno broke away long enough to tell him to fuck off before he was kissing Tseng again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Reno whispered.

And for some stupid reason, Tseng agreed.

He didn’t really remember the cab ride home, except that he was vaguely aware of Reno’s mouth glued to his neck for most of it. The two of them tripped and stumbled up the stairs to the apartments, and then Tseng had to fumble with his keys while the entire world spun around him and Reno clung to his side and the whole damn time all he could think about was Rufus up in his apartment at headquarters having a threesome with some strangers. What was Tseng doing to himself?

He didn’t really choose to lay down on the bed so much as he found himself there, half of his clothes discarded on the floor and Reno’s mouth against his neck again. Reno’s hand snaked into his boxers and took hold of him. It was the kind of manhandling bound to occur when they were both too drunk to have a firm grasp on what was truly happening, but it evened out into something less unpleasant eventually. It should have felt good, but…

Why did he care so much? Gods, there was that pain in his chest again. Rufus wasn’t his to covet. They were just friends…who happened to sleep together. What was the logical endpoint of this stupid relationship? He couldn’t be with him, not really. They were both too busy and Rufus was too… _Rufus_.

Reno sat back with a huff. “What’s the matter man, I’ve been going at this for like ten minutes and you’re not even hard.”

The amount of alcohol Tseng consumed that evening would have almost guaranteed an inability to perform even if his brain wasn’t intentionally sabotaging him. He honestly felt a bit weepy, and after everything else that happened that evening, the last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Reno. Or at all.

“You want me to use my mouth, or…?” When Tseng didn’t respond, Reno let out a low whistle and rolled off the bed. “Man, Rufus did a number on you, huh?”

“Gods, please don’t mention him,” Tseng rolled onto his side, but the movement made his stomach lurch. He scrambled out of the bed, his balance severely impaired, and just made it to the toilet in time to heave up the contents of his stomach.

“All right, boss, well this has been…weird.” Reno said. “I’m gonna go sleep in my own apartment.” He disappeared for a moment, but returned to drop a bottle of water and a box of crackers in the doorway. “Puke it all out before you try to go back to sleep. You’ll feel better.”

Tseng didn’t really have a choice. The first lurch set off a chain reaction and for several uncomfortable minutes his stomach spasmed unexpectedly.

At some point, he passed out with his face pressed against the porcelain, and then he didn’t have to think about anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tseng, buddy: the unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. More soon!


	16. Don't Speak

Being hungover at thirty was a vastly different experience than being hungover at twenty. At twenty, which was probably the last time Tseng drank as much as he had the night before, he might wake up with a bad headache easily cured by some greasy diner food and a few pills. At thirty, it felt like a truck had run him over, then backed up and done it again. His entire body ached and though he ostensibly slept for several hours, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

He awoke with his face on the toilet and the acrid smell of vomit in his nostrils and it took him a moment to push himself up, the room spinning as he moved. He was still a little drunk, actually. How that could be the case when he had hurled up the entire contents of his stomach was beyond him.

What a mistake last night had been.

He didn’t want to dwell for even a single second on what happened with Reno, either - it was too embarrassing for everyone involved.

For a while he sat against the door frame in the bathroom sipping the water Reno left him. When he finally felt he could move, he crawled over to his bed with the water and box of crackers in tow and pressed his face into the pillow with a low groan. Death had to be better than how he felt just then.

He had almost drifted to sleep when a loud knock rattled his brain and jarred him awake.

“Are you awake in there?” It was Rufus. Tseng didn’t respond, instead burying his head beneath his pillow in the hopes that ignoring the situation would make it go away, just this once. “Come on, Tseng, let me in. I brought coffee. And bagels.” A bagel did sound like the only thing his stomach might keep down at the moment. “If you don’t answer me I’m going to assume you’re dead and break the door open myself.”

With an agitated groan, and no small amount of difficulty, Tseng peeled himself out of bed and shuffled over to the door, throwing it open and glowering at Rufus, more because he didn’t feel capable of any other expression than out of actual malice, though he was still irritated.

“Reno said you might need checking in on,” Rufus greeted him with a box of bagels in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “It sounds like you had a bit too much to drink last night.” He looked him up and down. “You look like shit.”

“Nice to see you too,” Tseng growled, slumping into a chair at the kitchen table.

Rufus looked around the tiny apartment with a frown. The whole thing was smaller than his closet. He set the bagels and coffee in front of Tseng and sat down across from him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“What is there to be sorry about?” Tseng snapped. “You have every right to sleep with whoever you like.”

“You’re angry.”

“I don’t have a right to be.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Tseng,” Rufus said, smacking his hand against the table. “Whether or not you’re allowed to be isn’t the point. You _are_ angry, so just say you’re angry. You always do this. You just dance around the issue.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here.” Tseng bristled.

“No, you didn’t. I came anyway. Forgive me for thinking there might be a correlation between you walking in on me fucking somebody else and you getting drunk for the first time in…how long? Is that too self-centered of me?” Rufus prodded. “Am I just being vain, then?”

Tseng’s head was throbbing. “I can’t have this argument right now.”

“Why can’t you just say how you feel about it? Should I start? I felt like shit when you walked in last night. I know we never made any agreements. I _do_ have every right to fuck whoever I want. That didn’t stop me from feeling guilty when you left. And if you would have just stayed and had a conversation, I would have kicked those other two out. I did anyway because you made me feel so awful.”

“Forgive me,” Tseng rolled his eyes. “I always dream of being your sloppy seconds.”

Rufus clenched his fists and made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, "Why are you being like this?!”

“Fine! I am angry!” Tseng burst. “And I don’t have a right to be because we didn’t agree to anything, but I had a terrible week and all I wanted was to talk to you and I just-” He refused to meet Rufus’ gaze. That pain was welling in the center of his chest again - that awful, terrible ache. “I was just upset for a lot of reasons.” He tempered his voice. “And I didn’t think about the fact that you might have someone else over. It was just the straw that broke the chocobo’s back. It wasn’t…” He pressed his head against the table. “I really don’t want to fight with you. I’m so tired and my whole body hurts.”

Rufus sighed. He put his hand on Tseng’s back. “Reno said he brought you home and you threw up…a lot.”

So Reno hadn’t told him.

“Rufus,” he groaned, lifting his head. “I almost had sex with Reno.”

To his annoyance, Rufus burst out laughing. “What?”

“That’s why he brought me home.”

“And then what?” Rufus asked. “You threw up on him? Oh, Tseng,” he cupped his face with his hand. “I didn’t realize it was so dire.”

That was better than what actually happened, so he didn’t correct him. Rufus gripped his shoulders and massaged them lightly.

“You need to eat something or all that acid sitting in your stomach is going to make you sick again.” Suddenly a bagel was in his hand and Rufus was across the room in the bathroom, rummaging through his medicine cabinet. “It stinks in here,” he noted.

“Well, I spent all night throwing up.” Tseng chewed on the bagel in his hand slowly, afraid if he ate too much he would definitely be sick.

“How do you live in this apartment, Tseng? You can barely turn around in it.”

Tseng scoffed through a mouthful of bagel. “’I’m Rufus Shinra, I don’t know how you peasants live down here in the real world.’”

“That’s very mature, thank you.” Rufus returned with pills in his hand, which he forced Tseng to take.

He began peeling off his clothes and draping them over one of the chairs while Tseng ate. Tseng stared at him.

“If you think I’m in any state to have sex-”

Rufus gave him a withering look. “No. I just thought I’d get comfortable. Let’s go lie down.”

Nothing on the planet sounded better than going back to sleep, so he let Rufus guide him back over to the bed, curling up under the covers with Rufus pressed against his back, his arms wrapped around his middle. Rufus kissed his shoulder and let his fingers brush delicately against Tseng’s.

“You know that it’s just sex with the others, right?” He asked. “They don’t mean anything to me. It’s just sating an urge. It’s not like with you.” Tseng felt like his heart was stuck in a vice and someone was squeezing it tighter and tighter. It didn’t feel very good, actually. Rufus’ lips ghosted over the nape of his neck. “I care about you. It’s so much different with you.”

For as angry as he had been a few minutes ago, Tseng wasn’t sure _what_ he was feeling now, but it was almost worse. It felt good, to be held like that, but whatever emotion was welling in his chest didn’t. It felt new and wholly unwelcome.

He clasped his hand over top of Rufus’ where it lay against his chest and entwined their fingers. He wasn’t allowed to feel like this. This whole thing had been a mistake from the moment they first kissed in Gongaga. So why did he feel like he would rather die than ever give it up?

He chalked it up to the kind of emotional volatility brought on by an empty stomach and little sleep. He would get some rest and then things would be better and he wouldn’t feel like this anymore.

* * *

Tseng awoke to the gentle sound of rain against the window. He was sprawled sideways across his bed with his head resting against Rufus’ stomach. Rufus sat with his back against the headboard typing rapidly on his phone, but once he realized Tseng was awake, he set the phone down on the nightstand and brushed a hand through Tseng’s hair.

“Have a nice nap?”

“Hm.” Tseng felt monumentally better. He pressed his lips against Rufus’ stomach, watching his skin jump at the unexpected touch. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

“Me too.” He ran his thumb along the line of Tseng’s cheek. “Tell me about your week.”

“Ugh,” Tseng huffed. “Where to start?”

He began with picking up Zack in Costa del Sol, complained at length about the fruitless interrogation of Hollander, the attack on Junon, Hollander’s escape, and dealing with the witnesses, every excruciating detail of his miserable failure of a week. Rufus listened quietly, his hand combing through Tseng’s hair as he did so, stopping occasionally to ask questions. It felt so good to be able to talk to him again after an entire week of pent up frustration at his inability to get the job done. It was strange to think there was a time when Rufus would have to pry the words out of him - now he was the only one he would willingly talk with for hours.

“What about you?” Tseng asked when he was finished. “What did you get up to?”

“A lot of boring meetings,” Rufus frowned. “But Veld told me Tennyson finally snapped and gave up the names of everyone who knows about my involvement funding the insurgents. So he’ll be taking care of that for me. Heidegger’s up to his ass in paperwork since Lazard disappeared. It seems like my father’s organization is imploding, if only a little. In the meantime, he thinks I’m helping him, though he probably still has his suspicions about me.”

“I ran into him when I was leaving for my trip last week. I lied and said I was still trying to dig up dirt on you.”

“Good cover up, though I would have loved to see the look on his face if you said you were fucking me,” Rufus laughed loudly.

“Oh Gods, I think I said something about that last night at the club. Rude probably knows now too.” Tseng pressed his face against Rufus’ stomach.

“Surprised he didn’t already. He and Sinclair are so close.”

“As long as Veld doesn’t find out.”

“I’m technically his boss now. What can anyone besides my father really do about it? Of course if Scarlet or Heidegger found out, they wouldn’t hesitate to tell him.” Rufus drew his finger down the bridge of Tseng’s nose. “Better not go out drinking with any other Shinra executives.”

“I never want to drink again,” Tseng groaned.

“You might like it if you learned some moderation. All or nothing isn’t the best solution to alcohol.”

With some difficulty, Tseng sat up. The world no longer spun when he moved, which was a great improvement. He climbed onto Rufus’ lap, straddling his hips and pressing their bodies together. He could have laid like that forever, just relishing in Rufus’ warmth, but it hadn’t been his plan when he decided to get up. He pressed his lips against Rufus’ neck, enjoying the sensation of Rufus’ chest vibrating against his as he moaned softly.

“You _are_ feeling better, aren’t you?”

“Enough talking,” Tseng brought their lips together. He never had to tell Rufus twice.

Tseng ground against Rufus’ pelvis as they kissed, his tongue darting out to meet Rufus’. Every time Tseng’s hips moved, the smallest groan escaped Rufus’ throat, his fingers digging into the flesh of Tseng’s back and sliding further down underneath the fabric of his boxers. For a while they lay like that, Rufus’ hips shifting ever-so-slightly to meet Tseng’s movements, lips never parting for more than a fraction of second. Tseng could have spent hours contentedly kissing Rufus, which was why Rufus usually ended up leading.

This time, however, Tseng was the first to push things further, sliding his hand inside Rufus’ boxers and wrapping his hand around him. Rufus’ lips parted in a gasp, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

“Tseng?” He brushed the side of Tseng’s nose with his, their lips just barely touching, toying with kissing each other again as they breathed heavily.

“What?”

“Would you,” Rufus kissed Tseng’s neck, “be willing to go on top?”

It was an unexpected request, but it wasn’t as though Tseng had never done it. He had his preferences, of course, but he would have done almost anything Rufus asked of him in that moment.

He brought their lips back together in a rough kiss and then rolled off of him. “Lay down here.”

Rufus stretched his body sideways along the length of the bed, twisting to meet Tseng’s mouth as he curled against his back. Tseng kissed down his neck and Rufus ground his ass backward into Tseng’s crotch. So really, he was still going to be leading things. Tseng allowed a hand to stray down Rufus’ chest and back beneath the fabric of his boxers, grabbing his now fully erect cock at the base and stroking him slowly. Rufus craned his neck back and closed his eyes, a delectable moan issuing from the back of his throat, his hips still rocking back to grind against Tseng.

Tseng was ready to go then, but he took his time, kissing up and down Rufus’ neck and shoulder. Rufus apparently wasn’t all that keen on waiting though, because he reached an arm back to shove at Tseng’s underwear.

“Okay,” Tseng chided. “Use your words.”

Rufus wasn’t listening. He bent his legs to free himself of his own underwear while Tseng dug around in his nightstand drawer for the bottle of lube he kept there. He curled back against Rufus, sliding his cock along the groove of Rufus’ ass and reaching around to stroke him again.

“Uhn,” Rufus moaned. “Don’t drag it out. Just get inside of me.”

“I’m not remotely surprised that you’re so impatient,” Tseng laughed against his ear. Rufus hand groped blindly behind him, trying to take hold of Tseng. He swatted it away. “Hold still.” Tseng let go of Rufus and took hold of his own cock, sliding it as slowly as he dared inside of Rufus, who inhaled sharply and immediately jerked his hips back to slam against Tseng’s pelvis.

It had been a long time since Tseng was in this position, that tight heat enveloping him and sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine. He dug his fingers into Rufus’ hips and then he mostly just held on for the ride while Rufus ground his hips back and forth against Tseng’s pelvis, moaning with each thrust, reaching a hand back to grip Tseng’s hair.

Tseng was vaguely aware of the noises leaving his mouth. He pressed his face against the back of Rufus neck as his breath came ragged and heavy.

“You feel so good,” Rufus groaned. “Gods…fuck, Tseng…”

“Rufus…” Tseng breathed against his skin.

The sounds Rufus was making were obscene. Tseng could have cum just from the earth-shaking moans issuing from Rufus’ throat. He wrapped an arm around Rufus’ chest and clutched at his skin, trying to move his hips to match Rufus’ frankly break-neck pace. Both of Rufus’ hands moved to clutch at Tseng’s arm, his nails digging into the flesh and leaving scratch marks.

The pleasure was mounting in Tseng’s body and he knew Rufus would be disappointed if he came first, but he didn’t have much say in the pace Rufus was setting.

“Rufus,” he breathed. “Rufus, slow down. I’m too close…”

“Oh,” Rufus huffed. “No, don’t. Not yet.” He slowed the movement of his hips to a slightly less punishing pace and Tseng tried to think of anything he could to keep from ending things prematurely.

“Do you…usually go on the bottom?” Tseng asked. “With other men?” He seemed to be _really_ enjoying it.

“Don’t talk,” Rufus gasped. “I’m so close.”

Tseng reached around to stroke his cock again, thrusting his hips as he did so, and this seemed to push Rufus over the edge. He arched his back, his fingers curling around the side of the bed, as a husky moan left his throat and he came into Tseng’s hand. Tseng was only a second behind him, moaning against Rufus’ neck and spilling himself inside of him with a few final thrusts.

And then they were still except for the rise and fall of their chests as they caught their breath.

“Oh Gods,” Rufus gasped. “That was so good.”

They lay against each other for another few seconds before they cleaned up, returning to the bed and curling against one another. Rufus kissed Tseng’s nose and ran a hand up and down his back. “To answer your question, no. I don’t usually go on the bottom. So you don’t need to have a complex about it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Tseng protested. “If we both like it, we can just take turns. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself just now.”

“I just like it from time to time.” Rufus’ eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep them open. He had a habit of getting dozy once he had cum. “You were fantastic.”

“I wasn’t doing much,” Tseng muttered. “You were pretty much driving.”

“Hm,” Rufus kissed his shoulder lazily, resting his head next to Tseng’s. “I love your cock.”

“Always the romantic,” Tseng chuckled. He combed his fingers through Rufus’ hair. “Yours is pretty nice too.”

His thumb brushed Tseng’s cheek as his eyes fell completely shut, his hand coming to rest against the side of Tseng’s face. Tseng curled his fingers around Rufus’, content to lie there and watch him sleep. He was so beautiful: the perfect slope of his nose, the softness of his slightly parted lips, his delicate blonde eyelashes.

As the post-orgasmic euphoria receded, Tseng found the vice-like grip squeezing around his heart again. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Rufus’ face, so peaceful in sleep. Why did he feel like this?

_Shit._

He was in love with Rufus Shinra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooooooooooooooooooooo boy. boyfriends who don't realize they're boyfriends.
> 
> thank you for reading! I really love seeing everyone's comments. More soon!


	17. Sharing a Moment

Tseng was due to pay Aerith Gainsborough a visit, and anything that kept him busy was a worthwhile endeavor. The realization that he was in love with Rufus a week earlier left his thoughts going wild every time he had a spare moment to himself, so to avoid the discomfort of thinking for too long about something so hopelessly unrequited, he kept himself as busy as he possibly could: paperwork, small jobs around the city, even an interrogation or two just to keep his mind off of Rufus.

And then he would return to Rufus’ apartment in the evenings and get the absolute life fucked out of him and it would be impossible to think about anything else. It didn’t help that Rufus, ever in touch with his physicality, was always affectionate after: running his fingers through Tseng’s hair, nuzzling against him, kissing him in that languid way he did when nothing else was expected.

He had to stop thinking about it.

So he took a trip beneath the plate to the sector five slums and let himself into the church to find Zack and Aerith leaning over the flowers talking to one another, oblivious to everything else around them. For a moment Tseng watched them - Zack said something, grinning from ear to ear, and Aerith laughed, her cheeks tinging pink as she shoved him playfully.

“I appear to be interrupting.” Tseng made himself known.

Aerith looked up and her brow creased as she frowned at Tseng. “Then maybe you should just leave.”

“Ah, come on, Aerith. Tseng’s a good guy.”

Aerith’s face softened. “Good people can still do bad things. I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Zack.”

“I’m just paying my regularly scheduled visit to check in on you,” Tseng said, taking a seat in one of the pews close to the flower patch. “Nothing has changed. The President’s concerns are still with the SOLDIER crisis.” He folded his arms. “So there’s not really any urgent reason for me to convince you to come in.”

“Did you see Veld’s e-mail?” Zack asked.

Tseng held up a hand to keep him from saying anything more. “I hope you aren’t divulging Shinra secrets to…civilians.”

At this, Aerith scoffed, kneeling amongst the flowers and picking a few. “Do I count as a civilian now?”

“Aerith doesn’t tell anybody about the stuff I tell her,” Zack promised. This was the problem with putting children in charge of state secrets. “Besides, I have to talk to somebody. Everything that’s been going on lately has been so…” Zack frowned and Aerith placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Aerith helps me through it.”

Tseng sighed. “It’s not like I’m going to turn you in. You’re hardly the biggest threat to our secrets being leaked.” There was a time when he couldn’t have imagined saying such a thing, but it was Zack - he was harmless - and Aerith, who already knew all manner of Shinra secrets anyway. Actually, they were well suited for each other in that respect.

“So what? You just come down every few weeks and…chit chat?” Zack asked.

“Sometimes he pretends like he’s trying to persuade me to turn myself in,” Aerith giggled. “But he’s not very good at it.”

“Well anyway, Tseng’s boss wants us to go investigate some rumors of uh…sightings…of something in the mountains, so me and him get to go on a road trip together,” Zack explained.

“Veld is technically your boss now too,” Tseng reminded him. Earlier that day, Veld sent out a briefing on sightings of Genesis copies in the Mythril Mountains. The terrain was too rough to land a chopper up there, so the only solution would be to take a Shinra issue off-roader. He had given the task to Zack and Tseng.

“Yeah, I guess. Any news on Lazard?”

“There are some who believe he may be working with our enemies. I think it’s highly likely, though I can’t speculate as to his reasons.”

“Above your pay grade, huh?” Zack quirked an eyebrow.

“Certainly above yours.”

Tseng rose from the pew. As much as he needed a distraction, he didn’t want to spend all day dispensing company information and watching two lovesick teenagers giggle and flirt.

“I’ll see you next week. For our…road trip,” Tseng said.

“All right!” Zack raised a hand, hoping for a high five. Tseng stared at his hand and turned toward the doorway. As he stepped out of the church, he heard Aerith say,

“I’ll give you a high five, Zack.”

Tseng supposed it was time to return to headquarters, which was an entirely unappealing concept given that he could either try to get work done in Rufus’ apartment, where he would spend all day thinking about the fact that he was in love with Rufus; or he could try to get work done in the Turks’ executive lounge, where he would be sure to run into Reno, who he had been avoiding since their awkward encounter in his apartment.

Well, he would have to see Reno sooner or later.

He took the elevator up to the lounge and, sure enough, he found Reno and Rude on the couch - Reno sprawled out across most of it while Rude sat on the edge. They looked up at Tseng’s entrance and Reno placed his pinkies in his mouth and whistled loudly. Rude jumped and rubbed his ear, glaring at Reno.

“Okay,” Tseng sighed, settling into a chair at the table and opening his laptop. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“What?” Reno feigned innocence. “I wasn’t gonna say anything. You have a nice time with the VP after?”

Tseng glared at him from behind his computer and said nothing.

“It was your loss anyway,” Reno continued. “Coulda rocked your world, man.”

But once he had expelled all his hot air, Reno grew tired of trying to goad Tseng into saying something and returned his attention to the television. This allowed Tseng to get some amount of paperwork done, write up an update on Aerith, and make some preparations for the trip he was meant to take with Zack.

It didn’t kill quite as much time as he hoped it would.

It was a strange thing, wanting to be with Rufus all the time and yet dreading seeing him again because of how he felt. He wanted to go home (it wasn’t good that he thought of Rufus’ apartment as home), to lie down on the bed in Rufus’ arms forever. But it hurt to lay there knowing Rufus wouldn’t feel the same. He cared about Tseng, certainly, but love? It felt foolish for Tseng to even think it to himself.

Maybe he would just sleep on the couch in the lounge and tell Rufus he was hung up with work.

As if Rufus were reading his mind, Tseng’s phone chirped with an incoming message.

 **[Rufus]** Are you busy? Come to the apartment. I have something to show you.

Tseng’s imagination went wild with the possibilities, and even though he was constantly conflicted, just a single text from Rufus was enough to push him firmly back in the camp of wanting to be around him as much as he possibly could. So he gathered up his things and headed for the elevator.

“Have fun getting railed!” Reno barked.

“Reno. I _am_ your superior,” Tseng reminded him from the doorway.

“Have fun getting railed, _sir_ ,” Reno corrected.

Tseng ignored him and left without another word. As he took the elevator down ten floors, he wondered _what_ exactly Rufus had to show him. The last time there had been a promise of something new, it had been a horrible little vibrating thing that Tseng hadn’t enjoyed nearly as much as he thought he would. Well…every time couldn’t be perfect.

“All right, I’m here,” he said, stepping inside the apartment. “What is it you wanted to-” He stuttered to a halt at the sight of Rufus lying on his stomach, running his hands across the carpet while a large hairless puppy with horrible pointed ears chased his hand, yapping and nipping at his fingers. This was much worse than the vibrating thing.

“Look!” Rufus beamed.

“It’s a dog,” Tseng said, somewhat stupidly.

Shinra guard dogs were bred by Scarlet’s men with Hojo’s help. They were considered dispensable weapons in most situations and they had been bred for generations with the sole purpose of being able to rip a man’s throat apart in a few quick bites. A horrible tentacle sprouted from their heads, which they whipped against their assailants in battle. Tseng had never seen one as a puppy, but if possible, they were even uglier.

“I told you.” Rufus scooped the mutt into his arms and laughed as it licked his face. “I used to raise them. This one was the runt. Scarlet was going to have her killed.”

Tseng eyed the row of razor sharp teeth glistening in the dog’s mouth as it panted in Rufus’ arms.

“I didn’t take you to be so sentimental,” Tseng would not remove his eyes from the dog.

“Are you afraid of her?” Rufus took a step toward him and, without realizing it, Tseng took a step back. “You _are_ afraid of her!” Rufus let out a bark of laughter. “She won’t hurt you. I’m very good at training them. If you help me, she’ll listen to you too.”

Raising a dog together struck Tseng as incredibly domestic, but he didn’t give voice to this. He never liked dogs growing up - his family owned a number of cats through the years and he was fine with those, but his limited experience with dogs mostly came from the street dogs in Mideel, who were feral and would attack if you got too close. One had bitten him when he was very young, which clearly left a bigger impression upon him than he realized.

“Just pet her head,” Rufus said, stepping closer. Tseng had to steel himself to avoid backing into the door. “I can’t believe you! It’s just a dog. Does Veld know you’re afraid of dogs? Surely you have to train for these kinds of things.”

Tseng held a hand out tentatively and withdrew it almost as quickly when the dog stretched itself to sniff at him.

“Well if you do that, she’s going to bite you. They can smell fear.”

Tseng looked from the dog to Rufus, frowning. “You’re not helping.”

“How about this.” Rufus was cradling the dog like a baby. If any executive saw either of them behaving like this they would never have respected either of them again. Turning so that his back was to Tseng, Rufus backed into him, holding the dog against his shoulder as he pressed his back against Tseng’s chest.

Tseng held perfectly still as the dog clawed up Rufus’ shoulder and sniffed his face.

“See, she likes you.”

Tseng was suddenly aware that he was grimacing as the dog’s nasty wet snout pushed against him. “Does it have a name?”

“Yes, I named her Darkstar.” Rufus cooed and stroked the dog’s ugly tentacle.

“Uh…good dog,” Tseng’s hand was shaking as he patted the top of its head. The dog dragged its long tongue against Tseng’s palm and barked.

“Don’t you want to hold her?” Rufus asked, turning around and shoving it into Tseng’s arms without waiting for an answer.

Tseng clenched his jaw as the dog flailed at the sudden position change, digging its sharp little claws into his shoulder and licking all over his face. He held the dog at arms length and looked to Rufus for help.

“Gods,” Rufus rolled his eyes, snatching the dog back and placing it on the floor. “A grown man afraid of a dog.”

“It’s not exactly a normal dog.”

“ _She_ has a name, Tseng.”

“I’m sorry. A dog bit me when I was young and I’ve just never liked them.” He watched Darkstar with suspicion as she clawed at Rufus’ legs to be picked up again. “I’ll try to…get over my fear.”

“You ought to anyway. I can’t believe you’ve never been in the field with a guard dog.” He knelt down next to Darkstar and scratched behind her ears. “Today she gets lots of treats and she can chew on whatever she likes, but tomorrow we start training.” He looked up at Tseng. “They’re very intelligent creatures, Tseng. Just wait until you see how fast she learns.”

“It’s not going to sleep with us is it?”

“She,” Rufus corrected. “And no. She’ll have her own bed.”

“Well,” Tseng conceded. “I guess I’ll try to help with training.” It was in fact a true testament to his love for Rufus that he was willing to cohabitate with a slobbering attack dog. “You know,” he added. “This would have gotten rid of me that first month I was your body guard.”

Rufus laughed and knelt back down on the floor to play with the dog.

* * *

As much as Tseng hated to be away from Rufus, and as much as he dreaded the idea of a road trip, he didn’t mind a break from the dog. He knew it was just a puppy and would take time to train, but it yapped all night in its crate and it seemed to be the one area where Rufus had more patience than he did. More than once in the week since Rufus brought it home, Tseng had been chided for snapping at the dog.

Now that he was stuck camping in the mountains with Zack, however, he would have taken the dog’s yapping if it came with a comfortable bed.

He and Zack sat around a fire of his making after eating a paltry dinner, their vehicle parked a few yards away and their sleeping bags spread out a suitable distance from the fire. Zack poked at the fire with a stick and jabbered on about Aerith, how he was going to build her a cart to sell her flowers, how when all of this mess with SOLDIER was over, once his contract was up, maybe he would quit and move beneath the plate to be with her.

It was a nice dream, but they were children. Feelings changed quickly at that age.

“Have you ever been in love, Tseng?” Zack asked. “I think I’m in love with Aerith.”

Tseng watched the embers rising up from the fire. “I am in love with Rufus.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. To Zack of all people. He supposed he and Zack had become friends of a sort. He felt responsible for the boy. Whatever the reason, it felt surprisingly _good_ to say it out loud.

Zack looked up in surprise. “Really? You never talk about it.”

“It’s a complicated relationship. He doesn’t feel the same.”

“Oh,” Zack frowned. “Do you know that for sure?” How could Zack understand? He was just a boy. When Tseng didn’t respond, Zack nodded and said, “Ah, I see. You’re afraid to tell him how you feel. I think you should just do it. I’m gonna tell Aerith when we get back. What have you got to lose?”

His best friend, for starters.

“Zack. You know that Aerith is very special, don’t you?” Tseng asked.

“She’s told me a little bit about it.”

“If you do decide to leave Shinra, it won’t be easy for you. We may have to fight each other one day. The President and Professor Hojo won’t rest until they get her back. As soon as the President decides to shift gears and pursue the Neo Midgar project again, they’ll want her back.”

“So why do their dirty work?” Zack asked. It seemed to be a genuine question too.

“If I don’t, someone else will. And then they’ll have me killed.”

“Well,” Zack said, thoughtfully. “If we ever have to fight, I’d do whatever I had to to protect Aerith. But I wouldn’t want to hurt you either.” He looked up at Tseng. “You’re my friend. So I guess I’ll go a little easy on you. But only a little.”

He laughed, but Tseng didn’t. Zack had only seen the surface of the sorts of terrible things Shinra was capable of. Could Tseng really carry out the order to kill him if it came to it? He wasn’t confident he could. Of course, it was all a moot point if Rufus took over. He had no interest in Neo Midgar as it pertained to Aerith.

“So…how did you and Rufus even, uh…?” Zack trailed off.

“Before I was assigned to work with you, I was Rufus’ bodyguard. We became friendly. Things just progressed from there.” Tseng shrugged. He hadn’t told anyone as much detail.

“Would you really get fired if people found out?”

Tseng looked up at him, suddenly deadly serious. “Zack, do you know what happens to a Turk when he is let go from the company?”

“Not really.”

“A testament to our effectiveness. If they found out about Rufus and I, they would strip me of my rank, torture me just because they could, and then throw me in the incinerator still breathing. It is something I consider every single time I’m alone with Rufus. It’s why I was so upset when you…walked in on us.”

“That’s just stupid! It’s not like you’re out dispensing Shinra secrets or something.”

“I wish it were so simple.” He would love to live in Zack’s world where everything that happened was just and fair.

“Well, doesn’t Rufus stand to be the next President one day? It won’t matter then, right?”

Tseng could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh poor Tseng so in his feelings :( If only there were some way to know if Rufus felt the same.............
> 
> I really like writing Zack and Tseng's friendship. I just imagine Tseng came to really care for Zack, like a little brother or something. I think by the end of things all he really wanted was to protect Zack and Aerith but he couldn't because of his job. But also Zack...honey...you got a big storm comin.
> 
> thank you for reading! more soon!


	18. Treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My warning for this chapter is that I just cherrypicked some non-descript details from BC and threw them in a blender with my own shit so if you're a purist about BC-related canon sorry in advance

Somehow, against all odds, Tseng and Rufus managed to have two whole weeks where neither of them were out of town, and although they both had substantial amounts of work to attend to, they spent every other waking moment together in Rufus’ apartment. It was pure domestic bliss, and for a fleeting moment when they lay together in a post-coital stupor, Tseng thought he could gladly give up the job he had dedicated his life to and spend all of his time lazing around with Rufus.

It was a nice dream.

Still, the time together was pleasant, and finally seemed to reach a balance of time divided between work and each other. They spent half of their time in bed and half of it lounging around the sitting room talking and cuddling. Tseng even indulged in the occasional glass of wine, which he rarely did before.

He lay on the couch by the fireplace with his head in Rufus’ lap while Rufus scrolled through e-mails on his phone with a furrowed brow. Darkstar was draped across Tseng’s legs, her head resting on his stomach. Tseng would not ever admit out loud that the dog had perhaps grown on him in the weeks since Rufus brought her home. He still found her ugly at best, but she was remarkably intelligent and already answered readily to Rufus’ commands.

Rufus’ fingers traced idly against Tseng’s chest as he read his messages. Tseng’s eyes were half closed and he could have fallen asleep like that, but Rufus’ thumb kept gliding over his nipple and sending a little shiver down his spine.

“It’s frustrating that Heidegger is good at what he does,” Rufus said. “I’d love nothing more than to fire him when I take over, but he’s useful and the SOLDIERS are annoyingly loyal to him in Lazard’s absence.”

“Is it true that Lazard is your half brother?” Tseng finally asked.

“What do you think?” Rufus raised his eyebrows. “Who knows how many bastard children my father has running around the slums? He was always parading women through this apartment when I was young. My mother would cry herself to sleep over it.” He grimaced and set his phone on the end table. “Sometimes I miss her so much.”

Tseng reached a hand up to cup Rufus’ face, surprised at his sudden sincerity. Rufus grabbed his hand, pressing his lips against his palm.

Whenever Tseng looked for too long at Rufus, it made his heart seize. All of this time together, essentially cohabitating, left him more lovesick than ever. He didn’t know how to cope with the feeling - sometimes it was so powerful that it hurt. But he wouldn’t say anything to Rufus about it. He couldn’t.

His phone buzzed and he sighed, fishing it from his pocket. Darkstar groaned at the shift in position.

[Zack] Hey buddy! Are you at headquarters? I had a favor to ask. Kinda urgent

“Tell Veld you’re otherwise predisposed,” Rufus said, moving his hand back to Tseng’s chest.

“It’s not Veld. Zack wants something.”

“The puppy?” Rufus laughed. “More romantic advice?”

Tseng gave him a withering look and sat up. At this, Darkstar snorted and, if it were possible for a dog to look affronted, she certainly did. She curled against Rufus in Tseng’s absence.

“I’ll only be a minute. He said it’s urgent.”

“You know, you’re not his father,” Rufus said. “Sometimes you act like you are.”

“I don’t,” Tseng protested. “I just care about him. He’s had a lot thrown at him in the last year. He needs some guidance.” He leaned down and kissed Rufus on the lips. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Rufus held the lapels of Tseng’s suit jacket and brushed his nose against Tseng’s. “When you get back, I want you to wear that thing I bought.” ‘The thing’ in question being a convoluted outfit made of rope. Tseng hadn’t touched it because he was confident it would be so unattractive to watch him figure out how to get it on that it wouldn’t be worth it.

“If you want,” he said.

“Oh, I most definitely do.” He kissed Tseng and let him go. “So don’t be too long.”

Tseng’s brain tried to balance the promise of sex with the requirement of figuring out where his limbs were meant to go in so much rope. He hurried out of the apartment before Rufus could delay him any further, taking the elevator up to the SOLDIER floor where he found Zack seated at a table in the lounge with Cloud and a SOLDIER, second-class that he didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Tseng!” Zack waved enthusiastically at his approach. “You remember Cloud, right?

Tseng stood at the edge of the table and eyed the three boys. “Yes, I remember Cloud. What was so urgent?”

“Oh, right. Me and Cloud just got assigned to a mission with Sephiroth. We might be gone for a few days or so. I was wondering if you would be able to give these to, uh…to my friend.” Zack glanced sideways at Cloud and the other SOLDIER as he fished several envelopes from his pocket and handed them to Tseng.

Tseng stared at them. “Letters?”

“Yeah. For my friend…in the slums.”

“Yes, I understand who they’re for,” Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this really urgent?”

“We leave tomorrow. I don’t have time to go see her. It’s really important. Come on, man, will you take them to her?”

Tseng snatched the letters from Zack and stuffed them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Fine.”

“You’re the best, man! Didn’t I tell you, Kunsel?”

The other SOLDIER laughed. “I still don’t trust any Turks.”

“Tseng saved my life,” Cloud offered. “We can trust him.”

“You should listen to your friend,” Tseng said. “Turks can’t be trusted.”

Zack frowned at this, hopping up and slinging an arm around Tseng’s shoulder. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to admit we’re friends. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Tseng promptly disengaged from Zack’s grasp and took a step back. “Where will your trip be taking you?”

“Nibelheim. Cloud’s from there, so he’s gonna show me around his hometown a little bit. Pretty cool, huh?”

Tseng sucked his teeth. Hojo had inherited a lab from professor Gast beneath Shinra Manor where he conducted some of his more unsavory experiments. That, and the mako reactor, were the extent of his knowledge on Nibelheim. He hoped Zack didn’t stick his nose somewhere it didn’t belong and find himself in hot water.

“Well. Be careful.”

“That’s how Tseng says he cares about you,” Zack translated for Cloud and Kunsel.

“If that’s all, I’m going to get back to my own work,” Tseng cleared his throat.

“Yeah, thanks again for helping me out, man.” Zack smacked his back, knocking the wind out of him.

“It was nice to see you, Tseng!” Cloud shouted as he turned his back to the boys.

When he returned to the apartment, he stuffed the letters in the drawer of his nightstand, resolving to take them to Aerith later that week. Then he was busy with Rufus and the terrible rope contraption, and the letters were all but forgotten.

* * *

When Tseng arrived in the Turks’ executive lounge the following morning, he found Reno and Rude having a hushed argument at the end of the conference table. Reno looked up with relief in his eyes as Tseng entered.

“Oh good, you’re here. Man, Veld is acting really weird. You need to go talk to him.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. He won’t say shit to us. He locked himself in his office. I think I heard him crying.” Reno tapped his foot and fumbled with his lighter as he tried to light a cigarette. “We figured he might talk to you.”

Tseng brushed past Reno and Rude and knocked softly on Veld’s door. “Sir?”

Several seconds passed before Veld’s voice sounded on the other side. “Tseng. Come in.” Tseng cracked the door open and found Veld behind his desk, papers scattered everywhere, his phone off the hook, his eyes red and swollen. He had never seen Veld in such a state. “Close the door. Hurry.”

Reluctantly, Tseng stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Sir…what’s wrong?”

“I am leaving Shinra. Possibly for good. My daughter is involved with an insurgent group called AVALANCHE and I have to intervene. I’m afraid it’s one of the groups that…”

“Sir, the cameras,” Tseng warned.

“Fuck the cameras, Tseng.” Veld buried his face in his hands. “You don’t understand…I thought she was dead. I was reviewing surveillance footage and I saw her…leading the group, but…she is not herself. Hojo did something to her.” He rose to his feet. “I have to go to her and get her to safety. You’re in charge now, Tseng.”

Tseng stood frozen to the spot, staring at Veld. “Sir, you can’t be serious?” He knew that Veld had a family once. Unlike most Turks, he hadn’t renounced them. But it was also well known that his family had been killed in an attack on the town where they lived - an attack led by Shinra.

“I have to go.” Veld rushed past him, out the door and out of the lounge.

Tseng stepped out of the office to find Reno and Rude staring at him. “Well?”

“His daughter is alive and running one of the VP’s insurgent groups.”

“Holy shit,” Reno said. “ _What?_ ”

“Pull up all the information we have on a group called AVALANCHE. I’m going after him. If the President finds out about any of this-”

“Right. Well we’re coming too,” Reno said.

“No. It’s too dangerous. If we get caught helping Veld they could kill us all. I won’t allow it-”

“I don’t think you really get a say right now. Meet us at the launch pad in ten or we’ll fly without you,” Reno shoved past him.

The matter was too urgent to argue over. Tseng rushed down to Rufus’ apartment to gather his things, resigning himself to Reno and Rude’s involvement. It would cause quite a stir if all four executive Turks were found out and charged with treason. Who would be next in line?

Rufus lay on the settee with Darkstar in his lap when Tseng arrived. He sat up and watched Tseng flit around him, gathering up what little he might need to take with him. “What’s going on?”

“Veld’s daughter is alive and running one of your insurgent groups,” Tseng explained. “AVALANCHE. He’s deserting to try and save her. He knows if Shinra finds her they’ll torture her and kill her. Hojo is also inolved? I don’t know.” Tseng rubbed his brow. “I can’t let Veld do this. He’s not thinking straight. I need to go with him to keep this under control.”

Rufus stood up. “Well then I’m coming with you.”

“No.” Tseng placed his hands on Rufus’ shoulders. “We already said to much in Veld’s office. Your father is going to find out about this and then he’ll almost certainly find out about your involvement.”

“Fuck my father. You think I’m going to let you waltz into a gunfight and get yourself killed?” Rufus swept across the room to grab his shotgun. Tseng knew better than anyone that there was no changing Rufus’ mind once it was set on something.

“What about the dog?”

“Like I can’t afford a sitter?” Rufus gave him a withering look.

“Well then let’s go. Veld probably already left. Reno and Rude are waiting on the roof with a helicopter.”

It felt insane - the most concrete act of treason Tseng had yet committed. But he was loyal to Veld and to Rufus above anything else. He couldn’t let his mentor self-destruct like this. He had no clue what could be awaiting him if he tried to reason with a daughter he thought dead who was running a terrorist organization and his emotions were clouding his judgment. Turks were loyal to each other and even if it meant risking his job and his life, Tseng wouldn’t let Veld face this alone.

Secretly, he was glad to have Rufus tagging along. If he was funding this group, even without their knowledge, it might give them some leverage. Besides, Rufus was a highly competent marksman. He would be useful to have around.

Reno and Rude already had the helicopter ready to go when they reached the roof. Veld had stolen a company helicopter and caused a commotion in the process, but it at least gave Tseng a plausible excuse to chase him down.

“Do you know where he’s headed?” He asked as Reno lifted off from the launch pad.

“Corel. The VP's files led us there actually,” Rude answered. “They’ve been trying to sabotage mako reactors to combat Shinra. They’re going to try and set off a bomb in the one that’s being built in Corel. Veld read the files, so he has to know that’s where they’re headed.”

“He should have spoken to me first,” Rufus growled. He stared out the window as Midgar disappeared from view. “Stealing a company helicopter will definitely get my father’s attention. And unfortunately for you all, Heidegger is well aware that your loyalty lies with Veld. I’m willing to bet he’s telling my father you’re going to help him. They’ll be on our tails.”

“Well, this fucking sucks,” Reno said.

That was an understatement.

It was a long flight across the sea to Corel and though Tseng tried to call and text Veld several times, he didn’t respond. Tseng’s stomach was in knots. He felt like every decision he made since he decided to side with Rufus had led to this exact moment. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ they were found out, it was a matter of ‘when’, and he just hoped they could buy enough time to help Veld and get him to safety. If the President’s men got to them first, they would execute Veld on the spot for deserting, and likely take the rest of them in for questioning. And what of Rufus? Would the President finally snap and do to him what he had done to his wife?

Rufus seemed typically unconcerned about the situation. He said little as Reno flew, but he did reach his hand out to squeeze Tseng’s shoulder reassuringly more than once.

When they flew into Corel, they found chaos waiting for them. Corel was nothing more than a worthless little dying mining town, and coal wasn’t needed with the advent of mako energy. For that reason, the locals had been some of the most vocally opposed to Shinra building a mako reactor of any town the company had yet invaded. The President promised them work in the reactor, but the reality was that most of them would lose their jobs and be forced to go elsewhere or starve. It was a natural location for AVALANCHE to mount an attack.

Veld’s helicopter was parked at the end of a long trail that led to the construction site where the reactor was being built into the existing coal mines. Reno brought them down and the four of them headed up the trail together: a long hike on rough terrain. AVALANCHE was likely already at the reactor, and they had the benefit of a high vantage point to see the Turks coming from a mile off.

But no one fired on them as they approach. Instead, a woman stepped out with Veld, surrounded by men holding guns at the ready. She held her hand up to stay their fire and she and Veld approached as Tseng and the others moved forward. Once they were closer, Tseng could see the familial resemblance between Veld and what must have been his daughter: the same auburn hair, the same eyes, the same nose. Something glowed in the woman’s arm, fused with her flesh…materia?

Tseng held his pistol at the ready, but Rufus approached them with the same haughty swagger as though he were waltzing into an executive meeting. Behind them, Reno had his stun rod drawn and Rude had taken a defensive stance.

“My father tells me you’ve been funding us,” the woman greeted Rufus.

Rufus stopped a few feet away from her. “Your father is correct. I don’t care if you blow up this reactor. What I do care about is the head of one of my departments standing next to you. Veld, what is the meaning of this?”

Veld sighed. “Sir, I thought Elfe was dead. She’s in a bad way. Hojo did terrible things to her.” He grabbed his daughter’s arm and held it forward. It was materia, shattered in some way, embedded into her skin. “She’s sick and her memories are confused. I want to take her away and help her.”

“You and I both know what happens to a deserter,” Rufus said.

“Yes. And I also know my men are loyal to me before you.”

At this, Rufus laughed and cast a sidelong glance in Tseng’s direction. Tseng’s shoulders tensed. He genuinely wasn’t sure what he would do if he was forced to choose between his mentor and his lover. Either move would be an enormous betrayal to the other. “I don’t know the truth of that. But lucky for you, I won’t be putting that to the test. If you want to leave, be my guest. Tseng is a more than suitable replacement in your absence. Unfortunately, I think we all know what will be coming for us.”

“Sir. You could still leave.”

“Not in time. My father’s men will have been close on our heels. Will her men let her leave willingly either?” Rufus nodded to Elfe.

“They will. They know I’m not well.” She gripped her arm and winced. Veld held her up.

“I have dedicated my life to Shinra and because of Shinra, I thought my daughter was dead. Now that I know she’s alive, I can no longer put my work before her.”

Rufus nodded to the path behind them. “Go. Take the other chopper and flee. I can’t and won’t help you beyond that.”

“Sir, I…”

In the distance, the sound of helicopter blades could be heard. Rufus sighed. “Too late.”

Elfe turned to look at Veld, her eyes watering, her face pale, and said, “I’m sorry father.”

Before any of them could blink, she had Rufus in her grasp, a knife held against his throat. How had she moved so quickly? One of Hojo’s tricks, Tseng supposed. Rufus held perfectly still as the metal brushed his skin. Tseng’s heart dropped into his stomach, he turned his pistol on Elfe as the sounds of the helicopter drew closer.

“Elfe!” Veld cried. “What are you doing?”

“They’ll never let us leave here. We have to have leverage. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I can’t…” She winced again and the blade scraped Rufus’ neck, leaving a thin smear of blood. “I can’t risk losing you after so long.”

“Elfe,” Veld pleaded. “Let him go. He could help us.”

“I can do nothing for you now, Veld. Your daughter is a shrewd negotiator,” Rufus replied calmly.

How could he be so cavalier even in a situation like this? Shinra’s helicopters were fast approaching and soon they would see the Turks surrounding a captive vice president, working alongside a terrorist organization. It wouldn’t matter what the truth of the matter was. All they would see was treason.

Tseng held his hands steady even as his heart pounded in his ears.

“When they come,” Rufus said, his voice remarkably even-toned, “I will ask you to kill them to prove your loyalty, Tseng.”

“Sir…”

“Don’t interrupt me. There isn’t time. I know you know how to shoot to maim, not kill. All Turks know this. Do as I say. Shoot them down. They will take their bodies to Midgar and I’ll make sure they can escape. Tell me you can do that, Tseng.”

In the state he was in mentally, he wasn’t confident. He could imagine what might await him in Midgar even with Rufus’ intervention. But he also knew the alternative was all of them being gunned down.

“I will do my best, sir.”

“Good. It will hurt,” Rufus said to Veld and Elfe.

“I’ve been shot before, sir,” Veld said. “Why are you helping us?”

“Mostly because it will piss off my father if you escape his clutches, and he’ll never get you back. None of the Turks will turn on you to bring you in. Besides, by now he’s figured out my involvement in all this. We weren’t careful back at headquarters and Heidegger has been trying to catch me in league with terrorists for years. Consider it one final act of rebellion before they take me in.”

Elfe still had the knife pressed to Rufus’ throat. “How do you know this will work? How do we know he won’t shoot to kill?”

“Tseng is loyal,” Veld said. “And an excellent shot.”

“Sir,” Tseng’s voice warbled. What if he wasn’t? What if his bullet hit too close to a major artery? How the hell were they in this situation? Did love make people so blind? Veld hadn’t hesitated to ruin his entire life the moment he realized his daughter was alive. Tseng supposed he would have done the same for Rufus - in a way, he already had.

The Shinra helicopter finally reached them, hovering in the sky overhead as the side door flew open and Scarlet leaned out of the doorway with a cruel grin on her face. Heidegger appeared next to her shortly, both of them too eager to see Rufus in such a precarious situation.

“What do we have here?” Scarlet laughed. “The Vice President appears to be in quite a pickle. And the Turks,” she tutted, “treasonous little bastards.” Tseng realized from her vantage point it did appear that he had his gun drawn on Rufus.

“Why don’t you let me shove this stun rod where the sun don’t shine, you dumb bitch?” Reno barked.

“Reno!” Veld and Tseng said at the same time.

Nothing like digging the hole they were all in a little deeper.

“This is what comes from supporting terrorism, _Rufus,"_ Heidegger barked.

Rufus didn’t flinch. He quirked an eyebrow and had the audacity to smirk. “I am still your superior, Heidegger. You ought to address me as sir.”

Heidegger’s face went red and spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. “We are here on orders from the President to bring you in with your treasonous crows.”

“Alive, I suppose.”

“At least you,” Heidegger eyed the Turks. The helicopter let off a volley of gunfire and Reno and Rude danced backward to avoid being hit. “No promises on the crows.”

“Tseng,” Rufus said coolly. “Who are you loyal to?”

“Shinra, sir.” Tseng took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves.

“Prove it to the executives and maybe they’ll spare your lives. Shoot down your leader.”

It was then that he jabbed his elbow backward into Elfe’s chest. She was too weak from the materia in her arm to handle the blow and she stumbled backward as Rufus stepped to safety between Reno and Rude, simultaneously shielding them from any further gunfire from the helicopter. Tseng trained his gun on Veld, steeling himself.

“Do what you must do, Tseng,” Veld said, squaring his shoulders.

He fired off two gunshots, a loud _crack_ resounding in the air as he did so. Despite the agreement, Elfe’s men began to fire on the helicopter and they were summarily executed by a spray of bullets from the helicopter’s artillery. Veld and Elfe fell against the earth, clutching each other as their eyes fell shut. Tseng hoped to every God there was that he had rendered them unconscious, but as adept as he was at working under pressure, he had never quite faced a situation like this.

If Rufus couldn’t carry out his end of the bargain for any reason, they would die. And ultimately, it would be Tseng’s fault they were dead.

There wasn’t time to dwell on that, though. Scarlet and Heidegger would undoubtedly turn him in to be ‘interrogated’ by the SOLDIERS still loyal to Tseng, the ones willing to do that sort of thing, since a Turk never would. He would be lucky to survive the next few hours - Rufus wouldn’t get a say in that.

“What a loyal dog,” Heidegger laughed.

“Are we crows or dogs, make up your fucking mind!” Reno barked.

Scarlet threw a ladder down from the helicopter and climbed down, slapping Reno across the face as soon as her feet touched the ground. She stood in front of Rufus with a wicked grin and gripped his chin, long nails digging into his flesh.

“It’s time for you to go home to daddy for your punishment, little boy.”

And, to Tseng’s eternal surprise, Rufus spit right in her eye, which earned him a slap as well before she shoved him up the ladder. Two SOLDIERS climbed down once Rufus was in the helicopter and for a moment Tseng was sure Reno, Rude, and he were going to be gunned down right then and there, no chance to defend themselves, but they only prodded the three of them to get into the chopper, guns pressed against their backs.

Tseng was the last in. Heidegger gripped his arm with a meaty paw and cuffed his hands behind his back, shoving him down into a seat and laughing that grating laugh of his. “If you’re lucky, the President might reward your loyalty by sparing your life. That is, supposing Scarlet and I also vote in your favor.”

A fire welled inside Tseng’s chest. He would have loved to spit in Heidegger’s face as Rufus had with Scarlet, but that would have earned him an immediate one-way ticket to the incinerator and he wasn’t keen on pressing his luck. As it was, he didn’t believe they would spare him in the end. This was it. He would die on a fool’s errand, trying to save his mentor, all of his men turned traitors trying to help him.

But he had been a traitor from the day he swore loyalty to Rufus. Part of him always knew this was a possibility: being found out.

Rufus held his gaze from across the helicopter. There was a wild fear in his eyes the likes of which Tseng had never seen. Rufus Shinra wasn’t afraid of anything. How could he be with his name and his face and his status? Even his father didn’t scare him. So why did he look so terrified now?

He knew what was awaiting Tseng back at headquarters.

The SOLDIERS hefted Veld and Elfe’s bodies into the helicopter and hauled the ladder up, sliding the door shut as Heidegger shouted for the pilot to return them to Midgar. Neither Veld nor Elfe appeared to be breathing, but they were out of Tseng’s sight so quickly that he couldn’t truly gauge their status.

_Please let them be alive. Please._

He had killed dozens of people in the line of duty, but he would never forgive himself if Veld were one of them.

“I can’t wait to see you father strip that pretty title and office from you,” Scarlet said, holding her hand out in front of her to observe her long, painted nails. “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side.”

“From the day you were born,” Heidegger barked and the two of them laughed loudly, both equally grating in their own unique way. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted. I was the one who told the President he was up to something, you know.” He directed his attention to Tseng. “All the time watching over this brat and now I see why you never dug up anything useful on him. You were working for him the whole time.”

Tseng said nothing. If years of carrying out interrogations taught him anything, it was that any word you uttered could be a giveaway, and he didn’t plan to give up even a morsel of information. He was loyal to Rufus.

That was all that was left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be cute (and sad) if Zack also had some letters he had given Tseng. So then Tseng just has these letters from both of them to each other that never got delivered :( Also Tseng's in for a bad time next chapter. Like I said, this was kind of a mess of cherrypicked plot points just to get me from point A to point B so.......anyway
> 
> Thanks for reading! More soon!


	19. Fealty

“Let me ask you again, crow. Who else has the vice president been funding?”

An iron poker, heated with the help of fire materia, was inching closer to Tseng’s chest. Tseng stared at the SOLDIER currently assigned to his interrogation and said nothing, which visibly frustrated the man. He smacked the poker against Tseng’s side and Tseng let out an uncontrollable pained growl, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw to temper his reaction as much as he physically could.

Turks refused to interrogate their own, even for the most traitorous of the group, and they were allowed this request by the good graces of Heidegger, who wouldn’t have been able to make them fall in line if he tried. So SOLDIERS were put to the task of interrogating Turks, and they did so in the most ham-fisted and crude way possible, the only way they knew how, really. SOLDIERS weren’t exactly known for their bright minds, though the firsts could generally hold an intelligent conversation. They were the brute force division of Shinra, and the only way they understood how to deal with anything was to inflict as much pain and suffering as possible. This was both good and bad for Tseng. He had been trained to withstand a great deal of torture - Turk-level torture - and what he was getting was a lot of blunt physical pain. He knew how to deal with it, but it still meant that for the past three days he had been kicked, slapped, punched, stepped-on, burned, and waterboarded. There was a trail of evidence of the suffering the SOLDIERS had inflicted painted across his body.

The poker was honestly an improvement from the waterboarding, but he knew they’d loop back around to that eventually.

Added to the pain of his torture, they hung him from a hook on the ceiling for most hours of the day while they beat him, which was causing a pronounced and throbbing ache in his shoulders. For about three hours a day they would let him down to give him just as much water and food as he needed to stay alive, and not a drop or bite more, then they would ‘let him sleep’ on the hard floor of the interrogation room, just to rouse him and begin again.

He wondered how Reno and Rude were faring.

From a logical standpoint, there was no reason not to tell them everything he knew about Rufus. The President already knew Rufus had betrayed him, and Rufus may have already told him all he knew. But they weren’t _really_ plying him for information anyway, so why give them anything? He was nothing if not loyal, some would say to a fault. He wouldn’t break if it meant Rufus ever finding out he had betrayed him.

“Fucking answer me!” The SOLDIER screamed. He prodded Tseng with the poker again, which earned him nothing more than another grunt of pain.

This enraged the SOLDIER, who grabbed a bat from a pile of assorted torture instruments and swung it as hard as he could into Tseng’s ribs. It knocked all the air out of Tseng’s lungs, leaving him coughing and choking for breath, which hurt immensely as his ribs were now undoubtedly fractured.

“Why the fuck won’t you just tell us what you know?”

Tseng said nothing. He hadn’t said anything since they threw him in here.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t break those kneecaps of yours next.” The SOLDIER hissed.

So much machismo. Wasn’t it annoying to live like that?

The bat made contact with his head next and he lost consciousness.

* * *

When Tseng awoke, he was no longer dangling from the hook. He lay against the floor, his head throbbing, the rest of him aching as well, as someone lifted him enough to bring water to his lips. He took a sip, prepared for the water to be taken away, but it remained, so he gulped down as much as he could until it choked him.

“Whoa, careful. Slow down.”

A different SOLDIER was holding him, and as he strained his eyes to see, he vaguely recalled Zack’s friend…what was his name…?

“Kunsel?” His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Yeah, shh. Don’t talk. I managed to convince them to let me take your dinner shift. I heard about what happened and I knew they’d be roughing you up pretty bad. Zack always liked you, so…it’s all I can do for you really.”

Tseng continued to gulp down the water - for days his body had been aching for it.

“Listen. Something happened to Zack.”

“What?” Tseng croaked.

“I don’t know all the details. They won’t tell us. But they said he was killed in action in Nibelheim. I don’t believe it’s true. I think he’s still alive somewhere.”

Zack was dead? Tseng was surprised at the sting in his eyes at this news. He blinked away the tears threatening to form - he didn’t have the water to spare. It was sad, but inevitable. The situation with Genesis had never been stable. But Zack was so young…

There was the sting again. He blinked away more tears and drank the water.

“Why are you telling me? I can’t do anything for you in here.”

“Listen,” Kunsel said. “If they let you out of here one day…promise me you’ll look into it. Cloud and Zack are both gone now and they say it’s because of whatever happened in Nibelheim, but…you know how Shinra is.”

“Careful,” Tseng wheezed. “They’ll throw you in here for talking that way.”

“Please promise me,” Kunsel begged. “They were my friends. I know they’re still alive. I can feel it in my gut.”

If they ever let Tseng out of that room it would be to throw him in the incinerator.

“I promise.”

* * *

Eventually, it became impossible for Tseng to keep track of the days. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week he remained in the interrogation room with the harsh fluorescent lights shining down on him, beaten to the edge of death, given a rest, then beaten some more. Every now and then, Kunsel was able to bring him more water and food than he was allowed - it might have been the only thing that got him through it.

He wished they would just kill him and get it over with, but he supposed that was the point of torture.

Still, he never spoke a single word to anyone besides Kunsel.

It might have been two weeks, maybe three, not that he was confident in that guess, when the door to the interrogation room swung open and Heidegger stepped inside. He shut the door behind him and sat down at the table, staring at Tseng from his spot on the floor. Tseng’s left eye was swollen shut from a particularly nasty left-hook that might have happened two or three days earlier.

“Get up,” Heidegger barked.

Tseng tried, but he couldn’t. He was too weak to do much more than lift his head to meet Heidegger’s gaze.

“My men tell me you haven’t said a single damn word since we threw you in here two weeks ago.”

Tseng remained silent.

“Can you speak or not?”

“Yes, sir.” His throat hurt when he spoke.

Heidegger clenched his jaw. “You’re going to stand trial for your treason. You had better hope the President takes pity on you, not that he’s known for that.”

Two SOLDIERS walked in and they might have been one of the many who had been interrogating Tseng over the past weeks, but he couldn’t really remember their faces anymore. They lifted him, which made his entire body protest in pain, and carried him out behind Heidegger, dragging him down the hall and into the elevator. He could barely hold his head up.

With little care to what was left of his well-being, the SOLDIERS carried him out into the President’s office and hefted him against the marble floor in front of the President’s desk. He landed with an unpleasant thwack and though it took every ounce of strength left in his body to push himself up enough to kneel, he managed to do so, his arms hanging limp at his side.

A moment later, Reno and Rude joined him on either side. They too were covered in cuts and bruises, Rude’s nose was swollen as though it had been broken and Reno sported a fat lip and heavy bruising under his eyes. They hadn’t fared well, but it was clear Tseng bore the brunt of the SOLDIERS’ ire. Reno and Rude were at least able to hold themselves up.

“Ah, boss,” Reno frowned. “You look terrible.”

“Shut up!” Heidegger barked.

He walked around to stand behind the desk, where the President sat in his chair puffing on a cigar, Scarlet on his other side. What a joke of a tribunal. Where was Reeve? He would have had something to say about this, Tseng was sure of it.

“You all know why you’re here,” the President said, leaning back in his chair. “You conspired with my son to commit treason against this company and against me. You aided terrorists who were attempting to strike down Shinra at every turn. Have you anything to say for yourselves?”

The three Turks remained silent.

“Your lives are in our hands,” the President reminded them.

“I am loyal to the Vice President, sir,” Tseng spoke. “As are my men.”

Heidegger scoffed. “So you admit your treason?”

“I admit only my loyalty.”

“Just kill them,” Scarlet growled. “What a waste. They obviously can’t be trusted to keep our secrets any longer.”

“ _What_ is the meaning of this?”

Tseng’s chest ached at the sudden sound of Rufus’ voice behind him. It was a sound he had longed to hear often during his two weeks of suffering. He was having a hard time holding himself up, even kneeling. His head spun and he wondered if perhaps he was just hallucinating Rufus’ presence.

But then Rufus was next to him, a hand on his shoulder. It was the first truly gentle touch Tseng had felt in two weeks and he could have shattered to pieces because of it.

“Who let you out of the apartment?” The President’s brow furrowed.

“Heidegger’s men are easier to sway than mine. I see you’ve formed an unbiased panel to determine the fate of the Turks,” Rufus scoffed.

“We were just discussing the best method for their execution,” Scarlet said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

“No, I don’t think that’s what will be happening.”

“And what makes you think you get a say in any of this? You’re lucky you haven’t been stripped of your rank!” Heidegger barked.

The President held a hand up to silence him. “Say your piece, Rufus.”

“I know you plan to keep me on as Vice President. Yes, I’ll have my punishment for what I’ve done, but you and I are both too shrewd to pretend I’m not useful to this company. You’ve seen the damage I can do laid out before you in the evidence I turned in. Imagine if I put that potential into working with you.”

“Go on.” The President puffed on his cigar.

“So you have me helping to run your company and you have men who are so loyal to me they wouldn’t give up a single piece of information after _two weeks_ of torture. Not one word out of any of them. Why waste that potential? They are loyal to me, and I am loyal to you. You already have a mess on your hands with SOLDIER. Do you really want the Turks to fall into similar disarray? Who will carry out your dirty work for you? Who else knows as much as Tseng? If nothing else, killing them is a waste of valuable resources. You’ve sunk a lot of money into these men.”

“Why should we trust your loyalty?” Heidegger demanded.

“Did I ask you to speak?” The President gave him a withering look.

Tseng was vaguely aware that Rufus was holding him steady by gripping his shoulder. He had begun to waver, too weak to remain upright.

“Heidegger and Scarlet can speak to Tseng’s loyalty. He killed Veld and his daughter for me. Have you ever seen a Turk willing to betray his own before now?”

The President scratched his chin contemplatively. “We’ll call this a probation. The four of you will be put under house arrest in Junon. If any one of you slips out of line, it will be their heads. Do you hear that, crows?” The President barked. Reno flinched and Tseng just tried to remain conscious. “If my son slips up and makes a single move to betray me, I’ll have each and every one of you killed right in front of him. How does that sound, boy?”

“It sounds like we have an agreement,” said Rufus, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Take them down to the apartment to await extraction. We’re done here.” The President pushed himself up from his desk and stormed outside to the roof. Scarlet and Heidegger exchanged an unhappy glance, glowering at Rufus before they followed the President out to a waiting helicopter.

The SOLDIERS who had carried Tseng and the others into the office forced Reno and Rude to their feet. One approached Tseng to grab him, but Rufus swatted him away, kneeling down and hefting Tseng into his arms.

“Worry about the others. I’ve got this one,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Funny to hear them still addressing him as sir, after all he had done. Only Rufus Shinra could commit treason and walk away from it with his most loyal men still at his side. Tseng had seen that ability in him all those months ago when he’d pledged his loyalty to Rufus - he was born to lead, born to wield power, regardless of his family name.

Rufus remained stoic as they took the elevator down to his apartment. His face betrayed no hint of emotion, staring straight ahead while the SOLDIERS prodded Reno and Rude along with him. It was only once they were inside the apartment, rid of the SOLDIERS, that Rufus let his true feelings be known.

He lay Tseng gingerly along the settee and touched his fingers as lightly as he dared against the numerous wounds and bruises marring Tseng’s chest.

“Oh, Tseng…” Rufus gasped. “What they did to you…” To Tseng’s surprise, there were tears welling in Rufus’ eyes. What a good actor he was in front of his father. “Why didn’t you tell them anything, you stupid man?” He growled.

“They would have kept torturing me until Heidegger told them to stop,” Tseng croaked. “It never mattered what I told them. Why betray my loyalty?”

“They took my materia,” Rufus sounded frantic. “I can’t do anything for you.” He pressed his hands against Tseng’s face, kissing him softly without regard to Reno and Rude’s presence.

Tseng felt something wet and unpleasant lap against his hand and when he looked down he saw Darkstar licking him with her ears pinned back.

“Uh…we can…leave the room…if…” Rude struggled to find the appropriate words.

Rufus seemed to have just noticed they were there. “What about the two of you? How are your injuries?”

“We’re not as bad as him,” Reno said, nodding to Tseng.

Rufus swept across the room to the bar cart, shoveling ice into a glass and carrying it over to where Tseng lay on the settee. He knelt down beside him and pulled an ice cube from the glass, placing it gently against the bruised and inflamed skin of Tseng’s chest. It stung for a moment, and then there was a mild relief, but it wouldn’t do much for the deep ache in his bones.

“Can one of you get the first aid kit from the bathroom?” Rufus asked. “There’s at least some salve and antiseptic. These wounds…” He inhaled sharply as his eyes scanned over each bruise and cut and burn.

Rude took the initiative, walking away down the hallway.

“I’m so sorry, Tseng. What can I ever say?” Rufus cupped his hand against Tseng’s cheek and he leaned into his touch. He couldn’t lie and say none of it mattered now. He had never been in this much physical pain in his entire life. But he would have done it again a thousand times over for Rufus. He had been willing to die for the man he loved and in return for that loyalty, the man he loved had saved his life.

“You didn’t do this to me,” Tseng said.

“No, but it’s like you said,” Rufus sighed. “There’s no real punishment for me. They kept me locked away in this apartment, but that was it. I knew what they were doing to you and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. You’re a fool to be so loyal to me.”

Rude returned with the first aid kit and Rufus went about meticulously dabbing ointments and salves along Tseng’s body. Tseng took some water and food that was offered to him and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in a soft bed in Rufus’ arms until the pain went away. But it would be weeks still until his body recovered from this.

“I would do it again,” he said as Rufus tended to his wounds. “There was no question of what to do.”

“Don’t speak,” Rufus chided. “You’re too weak. I’ll have Heidegger flayed for this when I’m in charge.”

“Rufus.” Tseng curled his fingers around Rufus’ hand. “What about Veld and his daughter?”

“They’re alive,” Rufus assured him. “I managed to sneak them out with the help of one of the company doctors. If they’re smart they’ll put as much distance between themselves and Midgar as they can.”

This put Tseng at ease, or as much as he could be at ease in his state. Rude and Reno kept their backs to them and stood a respectful distance away.

“I would do anything to take your pain away,” Rufus told him. It was the softest Tseng had ever seen him. He cupped his hand against Tseng’s face and brushed his thumb lightly against his cheek. “Nothing I do will ever repay you for this.”

Tseng closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re together. I’m still breathing. None of it matters.”

“What I don’t understand,” Rufus said, “is why Reno and Rude also refused to say anything.”

Reno shrugged, surprisingly casual for the wounds he was sporting. “Turks are loyal to each other. If Tseng wasn’t gonna rat, neither were we.”

Rude nodded and gave a grunt of agreement.

“You’re in charge now, Tseng," Rufus said. "First in command. Once this house arrest is over, you’ll be the leader of the Turks.”

“Our loyalty remains with you,” he squeezed Rufus’ hand. “Always.”


	20. House Arrest

Tseng, Reno, and Rude sat with Rufus in a helicopter bound for Junon where they were to serve a six month sentence of house arrest in Rufus’ luxurious penthouse apartment. The punishment was truly Rufus’ - six months without any contact with the dissidents he had been funding, without any say in company affairs; six months to prove his loyalty to his father and step back in line. The Turks had already received their punishment - now they were just leverage to prevent Rufus from acting up.

In fact, Heidegger made it clear to Tseng as he was being tended to by doctors in the infirmary that he was still expected to oversee the Turks from his house arrest in Junon. Heidegger made no apologies for the brutish torture his SOLDIERS had inflicted upon Tseng and his men, and spoke as though he were blind to the injuries marring Tseng’s body laid out right in front of him as the doctor tended his wounds.

“You’re first in command now that Veld is dead,” Heidegger said. “I expect you to attend all meetings virtually and keep your employees in check. Failure to comply could lead to your replacement.” He said this last part with a wicked grin.

When Rufus was in charge, Heidegger’s rank would have no meaning anymore.

The medical treatment hadn’t done much to ease Tseng’s pain. Materia was most useful for healing injuries immediately after they were sustained, did little for broken bones, and even less for bruises, though it was still better than nothing. He could at least walk and still had use of both his arms, though his shoulders would need some amount of physical therapy to recover from his prolonged hanging. His ribs would take time to heal, as would the burns and bruises covering his body - at least the swelling in his black eye had gone down enough that he could see out of it. All in all, it hurt to move much, and Tseng felt weaker than he ever had in his life.

Rufus put on a good show of disinterest as they were loaded into the helicopter, holding Darkstar’s leash tight in his hands and staring out the window without so much as a glance at Tseng. It was more dangerous than ever for anyone besides Reno and Rude to know about their relationship and Rufus would be punishing himself for a long time for what had happened to Tseng, regardless of whether Tseng told him not to.

It felt odd - so much silence as they flew to Junon. Reno was uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the window with a frown, though his foot still tapped rapidly against the floor. Tseng had told Reno and Rude, once Rufus finished tending to his wounds the night before, that what they did went beyond the call of their duty as Turks. A lesser Turk would have given up the information, remained loyal to the President. Reno and Rude proved their loyalty not just to the Turks, but to Tseng and Rufus.

When the helicopter arrived in Junon, they were greeted to an escort of security officers and SOLDIERS, who led them to Rufus’ apartment.

It was a second class who walked them to the apartment door. “The building will be heavily guarded at all hours for the next six months. Any attempts to escape will be met with hostility. Our orders are to keep the Vice President alive. No such orders have been issued for you, crows. Keep that in mind if you decide to make an escape attempt.”

Reno folded his arms. “Six months in a bougie penthouse apartment? You’re gonna be trying to break in, not the other way around.” _There_ was his typical casual lack of professionalism.

“Any necessities can be ordered through your phones. One of the security officers will bring them to you. Your networks _are_ being monitored,” The SOLDIER continued.

“Are you done?” Rufus demanded.

The SOLDIER stepped aside and allowed them to enter the apartment. Only once the door was shut did Rufus move to Tseng’s side, allowing him to lean his weight against him. Tseng was thankful - it was difficult to hold himself up for long and just the relatively simple task of climbing the steps into the building left his ribs aching.

“You’ll find a number of rooms along the hallway,” Rufus said to Reno and Rude. “One of them is my personal gym and the other is my study, but the rest are yours to use as you please.”

“Do you, uh…need help with him?” Reno asked.

“I’m fine.”

Rufus carried Tseng into his bedroom, Darkstar trotting in after him, and slammed the door with some finality. He helped Tseng onto the bed before taking his coat off and hanging it on a rack on the back of the door.

“How’s your pain?” Rufus asked.

“It’s okay,” Tseng lied.

Rufus turned and glowered at him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’ll live, Rufus. It’s not-”

“If you’re in pain, there’s medication you can take. I don’t want you to sit here suffering in silence.” He disappeared into the bathroom adjoined to his room and returned with a handful of pills, forcing them into Tseng’s hand. “I know you hate losing your senses, but you need to rest and this will help.”

“Rufus-”

“Tseng.” He flexed his fingers. “I am so angry with myself. Don’t tell me not to be. You could have died. If I had gotten there any later than I did, they would have let some brainless SOLDIER put a bullet between your eyes.” He turned his back to Tseng and stared out the window. “I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about it. I’ve barely slept in days knowing you were…” His voice caught in his throat. “Please take the medicine and let me take care of you.”

Tseng stared at Rufus, silhouetted against the light from the window.

He had to tell him. He had to give voice to the feeling welling in his chest. It was a foolish time to say something: if Rufus didn’t feel the same, he would be stuck for six months in an incredibly awkward and uncomfortable situation. But he also couldn’t spend six months playing house with Rufus, sharing a bed with him, after the torture he had endured for him, just to pretend he wasn’t completely and hopelessly in love with him.

“Rufus. I…” It felt like a hand had taken hold of his heart. He had to say it. “I’m in love with you.”

Rufus didn’t move or react in any way. A second passed, then another. Tseng waited for a response of any sort, even if it was a rejection, but Rufus continued to stare out the window.

“Are you really not going to say anything?” Tseng demanded. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

Finally, Rufus turned away from the window and closed the distance between them, sitting on the edge of the bed and framing Tseng’s face with his hands. Up close, he could see that Rufus’ eyes were glistening. “Is the evidence of your love not present in every wound on your body? Did you really think I didn’t know?”

“Rufus…” He had still not given him the response he truly craved.

“What? How could you possibly think for a moment that I don’t feel the same? Gods, Tseng. You have remained completely oblivious every second of this relationship.” Rufus pressed their foreheads together. “I love you. I want to be as loyal to you as you’ve been to me.” His thumb traced delicately against Tseng’s cheek. “When this is over, when we can return to Midgar and resume our work, there won’t be anyone else. Not when you’re gone. Not ever.”

Tseng didn’t know what to say - there were no words. But Rufus was right, it didn’t even need to be said, not really. For a moment, if only just, all of his pain seemed to disappear.

“Lay with me,” Tseng said.

Rufus kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed next to Tseng. Tseng swallowed the pills Rufus had given him and rested his head against Rufus' chest.

And finally, for the first time in weeks, he was at peace.

* * *

Tseng awoke the next morning to Rufus’ fingers running along his scalp and through his hair. For a moment he lay there, eyes still closed, savoring the feeling. Eventually, he lifted his head to find Rufus smiling down at him.

“Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in a while.”

They lay against one another for awhile, and though Tseng’s body still ached, he took some comfort in the warmth of Rufus’ chest against his, the gentle touch of his hand against his head. But they couldn’t lay in bed all day. Tseng was expected to work, and Heidegger would not make any accommodations for his injuries. With some difficulty, Tseng pushed himself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to shower.

“Do you need help?” Rufus asked.

“I don’t need you to bathe me,” Tseng replied, rolling his eyes. “I won’t be long.”

It felt good to stand beneath the hot water of the shower. He had to lean against the wall for most of the time, but the heat was invigorating, washing away the dull stupor the pills had left behind. He took his time getting ready: there were no meetings today, so there was no rush, though he knew hundreds, if not thousands, of e-mails and voice messages would be awaiting him when he finally sat down to work.

Stepping out of the shower, he toweled himself dry, wrapping his hair in a towel while he pulled his boxers on. Rufus still lay in bed, though he had pulled on some underwear and a robe. He looked up from his phone as Tseng moved to the closet to grab a suit.

“Are you really going to put on your entire uniform?” Rufus asked. “What’s the point?”

“I don’t think I should be walking around in my underwear in front of my subordinates,” Tseng said.

“Reno’s touched your dick and they both know we’re fucking. Who cares?”

Tseng emerged from the closet and began to dress. “Please never remind me about Reno again.”

At this, Rufus laughed loudly. “I’m not going to hold back my usual physicality, Tseng. Is it going to make you uncomfortable around them? Do you really want to spend the next six months pretending things are just professional any time we happen to be around the two of them?”

Tseng gave him a withering look. “You delight in making other people uncomfortable.”

“Well,” Rufus grinned. “I won’t deny that. But I also don’t care if we make Reno and Rude uncomfortable. Gods know Reno says enough vulgar things to make everyone else uncomfortable.”

Tseng shook his head, pulling on his suit jacket and heading for the door. “I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want something?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Rufus slid gracefully out of bed and followed Tseng out into the kitchen.

Reno and Rude were already seated at the table, Reno clad in only his underwear similar to Rufus, while Rude was dressed in his uniform. Rude flipped idly through a newspaper and Reno spooned some cereal into his mouth, gazing down at it with heavy eyelids. When he saw Rufus, his robe wide open and chest on full display, his mouth went slack and a bit of milk dribbled down his chin.

“Nothing you haven’t seen,” Rufus said with a smirk. Tseng frowned at him and began to prepare his food.

“How are your injuries?” Tseng asked, cracking a few eggs into a bowl and whisking them up.

“Oh, you know,” Reno waved a hand. The skin beneath his eyes and across the bridge of his nose was a brilliant shade of purple. “Never been better. At least now we get to live the good life for the next six months.” His eyes followed Rufus as he came to stand behind Tseng. “The only problem is how the fuck am I supposed to go six months without getting laid?”

Rude snorted beside him, but said nothing.

“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” Tseng said. His skin jumped as Rufus sidled up behind him and rested his head on his shoulder. It made him more than a little uncomfortable to have such an overt display of affection, not that Rufus hadn’t always been physical in most situations. It was a struggle between genuinely enjoying Rufus’ affection, and being utterly mortified at showing even a hint of emotion in front of his subordinates. Well, Reno and Rude already knew they were having sex - there weren’t going to be any secrets sharing close quarters for half a year.

Reno narrowed his eyes as Rufus’ hand slipped around Tseng’s waist.

“Pretty rich of you to say that. You’re getting guaranteed dick for the next six months. Or am I wrong?”

“You can invite whoever you like over to the apartment, Reno,” Rufus said. “You just can’t leave. I know plenty of people in Junon. I’m sure at least one of them would be willing to fuck you.”

“How generous,” Reno scoffed, then added after a moment’s pause, “I’m gonna want their numbers.”

Rufus pushed Tseng’s hair over his shoulder and kissed the nape of his neck and again his skin jumped.

“Really, Rufus,” Tseng hissed. “I’m trying to cook.”

“This is disgusting,” Reno groaned through a mouthful of cereal. “Are you two going to be this insufferable for the rest of our stay? Because on second thought this _is_ punishment.”

Rufus took a step back from Tseng and put on a pot of coffee without acknowledging Reno’s protests. When the food was finished and the coffee was ready, Tseng and Rufus sat down at the table across from Reno and Rude and quietly ate their food. Reno stared daggers at the two of them, his eyes laser-focused on Rufus’ arm as it came to rest on Tseng’s shoulder, his fingers rubbing lightly against Tseng’s neck.

“What the fuck is this exactly?” Reno demanded.

Tseng sipped his coffee and feigned innocence. Rufus laughed.

“What is what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Reno gestured between Rufus and Tseng. “You two aren’t just fucking anymore, huh? What’s all this cutesy crap? And don’t get me started on how you acted the other day when we got back to your apartment. It was like me and Rude weren’t even in the room. Right buddy?”

Reno elbowed Rude, who folded his paper down and glanced at him over his ever-present sunglasses.

“I’m not interested in getting involved in this conversation,” he said, pushing the paper back up and keeping his face buried behind it.

“Does our affection bother you so much, Reno?” Rufus asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Tseng’s ear, twirling the strand of hair around his finger as he did so.

Tseng’s neck and ears warmed at the touch and he tried, without success, to control his body’s reaction. Rufus laughed and traced a finger against Tseng’s ever-reddening ear.

“Yeah, it bothers me,” Reno growled. “It’s sick watching the two of you willingly hand me blackmail like this.”

“You would never use it against us. The bruises on your face are evidence of that,” Rufus noted.

Reno slumped in his chair and glared, mostly at Tseng.

“Holy shit,” Reno said, shaking his head. “You two are like full on in love, aren’t you? Shiva’s fucking tits.” He let out a loud bark of laughter. “You’re both supposed to be these cold, calculating killers and you’re sitting here cooing and blushing like fucking teenagers with a schoolyard crush. I’ve watched you both blow people’s brains out. Unbelievable.”

“Hm,” Rufus stared at Reno, his finger still twirling through Tseng’s hair. “People are multifaceted, Reno.”

“Not me!” Reno growled, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Tseng pushed back from the table as he finished his food. “You should put your uniform on, Reno. We’re meant to work while we’re here.”

“Oh, yeah, am I gonna carry out interrogations over the phone?”

Despite worrying that Rufus’ overt displays of affection might mitigate the effectiveness of Tseng’s leadership, Reno reacted appropriately contrite when Tseng fixed him with a stern glare, sliding out of his seat and skulking away to his room to get dressed without a word.

“That’s an incredible power you wield, Tseng,” Rufus said. “Shutting Reno up with one look.”

Behind his newspaper, Rude chuckled.

* * *

It took several weeks for the bulk of Tseng’s injuries to heal and in that time, Rufus showed a remarkable amount of restraint in the bedroom, considering how well Tseng knew his libido. Even if Tseng had been in the mood for sex, which he wasn’t with the amount of pain he was in and the paperwork he was drowning in every day, his body couldn’t have handled it. He _had_ offered to help Rufus any time it was physically evident he was in the mood, but Rufus shirked it off - there would be time later, plenty of time, if they both had their way.

It wasn’t until a month in to their house arrest, when Tseng had caught up with some of his work and no longer ached when he awoke every morning, that he was finally interested in being touched again. He had been the one to initiate it, kissing Rufus’ neck and letting his hands trail between his legs shortly after they climbed in bed for the evening, which led them to Rufus sitting with his back against the headboard while Tseng straddled him, grinding his hips, clutching the top of the headboard with one hand, and Rufus’ shoulder with the other.

Rufus took hold of Tseng’s hair at the base of his skull and tugged, just hard enough for Tseng to grunt at the force of it as Rufus buried his face against Tseng’s neck.

“Do you like having your hair pulled?” Rufus was putting on that goading sexy voice he got when he wanted to rile Tseng into being a little more aggressive.

“I don’t care,” Tseng gasped, eyes half closed and lips parted. And he didn’t care. He was so close to the edge and as much as he could enjoy Rufus’ bedroom talk, he was trying to focus all of his attention on the pleasure mounting between his thighs.

“You…don’t care?” Rufus leaned back, digging his fingers into Tseng’s legs.

Tseng slowed to a halt, partially thanks to Rufus’ insistent grip slowing him anyway. He ran a hand through Rufus’ hair, damp with sweat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, if you don’t like having your hair pulled you should tell me,” Rufus pouted. “It’s fun to get a little aggressive in bed, but I don’t want to do something if you don’t enjoy it.”

Tseng sighed. Rufus cock was pressed almost perfectly against his prostate and he just wanted to resume his movements and finally cum for the first time in a month.

“Rufus.” Tseng framed his face. “I’ve had long hair my entire adult life. Men like to pull on it. It doesn’t do anything for me, but I don’t care if you do it. It’s not like you’re hurting me. When have I ever not been vocal about how I like things? You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me you wanted your hair pulled.”

“It’s just if you don’t care-”

“Oh Gods, Rufus, not now. I just said that because I’m _so close_. Let me finish, please.” Tseng gripped the headboard again and resumed his movements, his breath coming heavy as he moved.

“You know, I kind of feel like you’re just using me for an orgasm right now,” Rufus huffed.

“No. You’re just not used to letting someone else be in control,” Tseng corrected.

Rufus responded by gripping Tseng’s ass and bucking his hips so hard it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. Tseng let out a surprised gasp and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was a childish reaction on Rufus’ part, but it felt so good that he wanted to goad him into doing it again. So he ground down harder against him, trying to resume control, only for Rufus to dig his nails into his skin and thrust his hips as hard as his position would allow him.

It became a sort of twisted little competition to see who could stay in control. Tseng was barely aware of the noises he made every time Rufus thrust his hips up to meet him except that he was probably being too loud considering they shared a wall with Reno. Rufus pressed his lips to Tseng’s chest, mashing their bodies together, and Tseng clutched at the back of his head.

“ _Rufus_ ,” he moaned.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned against Tseng’s neck. “Tseng…Gods…I’m…”

He spilled himself inside of Tseng and Tseng had never been more furious with him for it. He was _almost there_. He had been _so close_ and now Rufus had slid out of him and gone soft, panting against his skin.

“I wasn’t done,” Tseng said sourly.

Rufus moved his hand wordlessly between Tseng’s legs as he pressed his lips to his neck. That was fine: his hand felt good, but it wasn’t what he’d been gunning for.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Rufus breathed heavily. “I couldn’t help myself. You provoked me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tseng had himself to blame as much as Rufus. He couldn’t be that mad anyway. Nine times out of ten Rufus went to extraordinary lengths to make sure Tseng came first.

After just a few seconds of Rufus’ hand stroking up and down the length of his cock, Tseng came, and all he could say about it was it wasn't as good as it could have been. He slid off of Rufus’ lap and walked away to rinse himself off in the shower and rid himself of his bad attitude.

He closed his eyes and let the hot water rush over him and, after a minute or two, he felt Rufus press up against him and rest his head against his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you,” Tseng said.

“Funny way of showing it.”

“I was just a little frustrated, that’s all. It’s not your fault.”

Rufus pressed his lips against Tseng’s neck. “I know it’s not my fault. Well, I suppose I’ll concede that I may have gotten a little competitive in the moment. I like being in control.”

“I’m well aware of what you like,” Tseng laughed. Darkstar padded into the bathroom, turning in a circle several times and coming to rest on the bathmat in front of the shower. Tseng frowned at her. “Why does she do that whenever one of us is in here? She just stares at us.”

“Dogs are smart,” Rufus said, letting go of him and reaching past him to grab the shampoo. “They know this is somewhere that people are vulnerable. She’s keeping guard for us.”

Tseng pursed his lips. The dog had grown on him, but he still wasn’t completely sold.

“Honestly, Tseng. She’s just a dog.” Rufus laughed. He squeezed the shampoo into Tseng’s hair and began massaging it against his scalp. Tseng turned his gaze away from the dog and faced Rufus, pressing his head against Rufus’ shoulder and moaning softly while he scrubbed his hair.

“Isn’t this nice?” Rufus whispered. “Just the two of us?”

“Seems like three,” Tseng muttered.

Rufus snorted. “You’re a ridiculous man.” He bunched Tseng’s hair in his hands as he scrubbed it. “But I love you for it.”

It was foolish and sentimental how much Tseng enjoyed hearing those words leave his lips. He could have listened to him say it over and over again. But neither of them had repeated it much since the first confession. In most moments, it could go unsaid. Their love for one another was plain enough in the way they took care of each other, the way each of them listened as the other worked through their problems and frustrations.

In a different world, Tseng could have lived a life of domestic bliss with Rufus.

For now he would enjoy the few months he got of it.

* * *

Rufus was a slob. He acted like he wasn’t, because usually the maid took care of his messes, but he was lazy about leaving things all over the apartment with no regard for the space he was sharing with three other people. When it had just been him and Tseng during Tseng’s stint as his bodyguard, it had been easier to ignore because someone else always took care of it. Now, with no maid cleaning up after him, Rufus’ tendencies were getting on Tseng’s last nerve.

“Is it so hard to pick up your papers and put them in the filing cabinet in your study instead of leaving them all over the kitchen island?” Tseng growled, shoving the papers together and tapping them against the countertop.

Rufus looked up from the kitchen table where he sat drinking his coffee next to Reno. “What are they hurting there?”

“I need the counter to prepare food. That’s what a kitchen counter is for,” Tseng said tersely. He dropped the papers in front of Rufus on the kitchen table where he suspected they might stay until he got irritated and moved them to the study himself.

“Well I was in the middle of something with them,” Rufus waved a dismissive hand.

“You’re always in the middle of something. Don’t get me started on your clothes hamper. Is it some titanic effort to take a few extra steps into the closet to make sure your clothes don’t end up all over the floor around the hamper?”

How could a man so meticulous about how his physical appearance and professional life be such a slob?

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“You’re completely thoughtless about the space you’re sharing. It’s because you’ve never had to share anything in your life.” Of course Rufus didn’t understand the courtesy of keeping common areas picked up. He’d never had any siblings to contend with, nor a caring parent to tell him to clean up after himself.

“And that’s my fault somehow?” Rufus raised his eyebrows.

Across the table, Reno was growing visibly uncomfortable with the argument, sliding further and further down in his chair.

“All I’m saying is you could think about the fact that we share a bedroom, you’re not the only one using that space anymore, and your socks all over the closet floor drive me insane!”

“Oh, this is just the coat thing all over again,” Rufus groaned.

And back and forth they went until Reno disappeared beneath the table and rolled across the floor to escape them.

* * *

Rufus Shinra had just given Tseng quite possibly the best orgasm of his entire life.

He lay on his back recovering from it while Rufus peppered his neck with kisses, his fingers tracing idly against Rufus’ scalp, eyelids heavy.

“It’s been a while since you were this speechless,” Rufus whispered against his ear.

Tseng sighed contentedly. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Hm,” Rufus agreed, nuzzling against his cheek.

Through the wall, Reno’s door slammed, and there was the muffled sound of voices - Reno’s, and two women. Rufus glanced up with a frown. Reno always was good at ruining a nice moment.

“We can’t be mad at him,” Tseng said. “I’m sure he’s overheard us more than once.”

Rufus propped himself up on his elbows. “I could happily deal with your quirks for the rest of my life, but I’m ready to wring Sinclair’s neck. How could anyone live with that man?”

“Probably why he lives alone,” Tseng remarked. “And thank you for that magnanimous gesture of tolerating my ‘quirks’.”

Rufus snorted. “I’m sorry for suggesting you aren’t perfect, angel.”

Tseng pulled him back against him and ruffled his hair with a grin.

“Imagine if your subordinates saw you so relaxed and happy,” Rufus smiled against his mouth as he kissed him. “No one would ever take you seriously again.”

“Well, I’d just have to kill you if you let anyone know about it.”

A steady knocking began against the wall they shared with Reno, followed shortly by enthusiastic moans from all three voices. Rufus furrowed his brow and smacked his hand against the wall, which naturally only goaded Reno into being louder than he already was.

“Two can play at this game,” Rufus hissed. He sat back on his legs and pressed his hands against the headboard on either side of Tseng’s head, shoving rhythmically until the bed began to creak and knock against the wall. “OH! GODS!” Rufus yelled. “OH, TSENG! GODS YOU FEEL GOOD!”

Tseng rolled his eyes. “You’re a child.”

“You should join in,” Rufus glanced down at him. “It’s not fun if it sounds like I’m the only one enjoying it. Loosen up. Live a little.” He poked Tseng’s side.

Reno’s voice sounded on the other side of the wall. “YEAH. FUCK YEAH. IS THAT HOW YOU LIKE IT?”

“UHN, TSENG! I LOVE YOUR TIGHT-”

Tseng shoved his hand over Rufus’ mouth. “Gods, Rufus, really?” Rufus licked his hand childishly and he withdrew it, conceding to join him in his silly game. “Fine. _OH RUFUS! OH GODS._ ”

“You have to try harder than that,” Rufus frowned. He stroked the side of Tseng’s face, his other hand still pushing against the headboard while Reno shouted a string of truly lewd statements through the wall. “I know you don’t like dirty talk.”

Tseng’s ears went warm as he opened his mouth and shouted, “FUCK ME IN MY TIGHT ASS, RUFUS!”

And Rufus was so flabbergasted that he burst out laughing and fell against Tseng in a fit of giggles. Tseng found himself laughing as well - he had certainly never spouted those words in that order in his entire life, and his face and ears were red from the embarrassment of it.

The creaking of Reno’s headboard stopped for a moment.

“You two are nasty!” He yelled through the wall.

Which only caused Rufus and Tseng to laugh harder.

* * *

Fast approaching the halfway mark of their house arrest, Tseng sat down at the table one morning to check his e-mail while he ate a small breakfast alone. He had just sent a notification out the day before that he was naming Elena Lindholm the next executive Turk, now that there was an open position, and expected a number of e-mails from people who didn’t understand they could reply to one person instead of the entire group in order to congratulate someone. The first message in his inbox, however, wasn’t related to Elena’s appointment. It was from outside the organization, but he knew the address well enough.

The subject line read: Please open!

"Dear Tseng,

I was told I could reach you this way. Since I know you’ll want to know, it was Cissnei who told me. She’s been checking on me the last couple of months. She told me about Zack, but I want you to know he’s still alive. I know he is. He hasn’t returned to the planet. Please come see me when you’re back in Midgar. I want to talk to you about this.

-Aerith"

Tseng read over the message several times. He felt awful, but he had thought very little of Zack since Kunsel told him about what happened, mostly because he had been so wrapped up in his own personal life. Kunsel claiming Zack and Cloud weren’t truly dead was one thing, but Aerith had a special connection with the planet…it was harder to ignore her insistence that he was alive. Tseng wasn’t naive - it was entirely possible Shinra was holding them somewhere. Between SOLDIER and Hojo, a lot went on that Tseng wasn’t privy to. But what could he do about it? He was under house arrest, and he had no clue where Zack and Cloud might be if they were still alive anyway.

Aerith,

I was sorry to hear about Zack. I’m sorry, but I cannot help you. I am stuck in Junon for the foreseeable future.

~~Yours,~~

~~Best,~~

Sincerely,

Tseng

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like after the last few chapters we were overdue for some truly indulgent domestic fluff. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I do hc that Rufus and Tseng are really mundane in their day to day life when they're just sitting around the apartment together. I know Rufus' house arrest was actually like six years but that's just absurd so whatever.
> 
> Fair warning that the next chapter is going to jump ahead a few years. Thanks for reading! More soon!


	21. Farewell

_**Five years later** _

* * *

The alarm blaring in Tseng’s ear was unwelcome after a restless night which he would have liked to blame on Rufus, but he had been the one to instigate things. With a groan, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stopping the noise with a clumsy press of his finger against the phone screen where it lay on the bedside table. A very large, slobbering dog lay stretched out between Rufus and Tseng, snoring loudly and kicking her feet as she dreamed. Rufus had promised Darkstar wouldn’t share a bed with them, but in the last few months it had gone out the window.

Rufus stirred and opened one eye. “What time is it?” He grumbled.

“Too early for you,” Tseng yawned, sliding out of bed and making his way to the closet.

Rufus seemed to agree with this response, shoving his head back against the pillow and draping an arm over Darkstar, who snuggled against him.

It had been five years of this: living together in secret. They split their time between the apartment in Junon and the apartment at headquarters. For the past few months, Rufus had mostly kept his distance from his father, which meant Tseng was constantly flying back and forth between Midgar and Junon so they could still see each other with some regularity.

Rufus had kept his word. From the moment he said he loved Tseng, he hadn’t been unfaithful.

Soon, they wouldn’t have to live in secret anymore, not that Tseng wanted to stalk the halls of headquarters with Rufus’ arm around his waist, but it would have been nice to not have to worry that someone might see or hear them every time they kissed or touched outside of the apartments.

Once he was dressed, Tseng grabbed his phone, surprised to see a number of missed calls from Cissnei of all people. Apart from his regular check-ins with her in his role as her superior, he had seen very little of Cissnei in the last few years. She certainly hadn’t called him since the whole mess with Genesis.

Every single text and voicemail said the same thing, “Please call me as soon as you get this.”

Tseng kissed Rufus’ forehead and scratched behind Darkstar’s ears before stepping out of the bedroom to return Cissnei’s calls.

She answered almost immediately. “Tseng. Sir.” She sounded breathless.

“Cissnei. What’s the matter? You called me seven times.”

“I can’t tell you over open lines. I’m already in Junon. Sir, please meet me at the airport.” And then she hung up.

For some reason, Tseng’s heart was pounding.

He grabbed his pistol and slipped out of the apartment, making his way as fast as his legs would carry him to the airport not far from Shinra Tower. He flashed his badge at a number of security officers, pushed past them down a hallway, and let himself out onto the tarmac where he found Cissnei standing next to a waiting helicopter.

Her eyes were red from what looked to be both a lack of sleep and crying. She climbed into the helicopter without a word and Tseng sat in the passenger seat and it wasn’t until they were up in the air that she spoke, her voice shaking.

“It’s Zack,” she said.

Tseng felt an unwelcome iciness settle in his stomach. “Zack?” Tseng repeated.

“He’s alive.”

“ _What_!? How did you figure this out?”

“I overheard Hojo and Heidegger…there’s this vent in the men’s bathroom next to the conference room. A lot of the other Turks know about it too. We use it sometimes to eavesdrop on them.” Tseng couldn’t really be angry about this - it was a smart way to glean information. “Hojo was angry because two specimens escaped from his lab…in Nibelheim. Something about a reunion…I don’t know. Heidegger ordered his infantrymen to track them down and bring them back in. So I did some digging-”

“Cissnei,” Tseng interrupted, “what you’re talking about is flagrant disregard for the regulations.”

“I know, sir, but I just had this gut feeling. Kunsel always said Zack wasn’t dead. He always believed that. And the ancient girl believed it too. I heard Nibelheim and I just had to know…I hacked into Hojo’s folders on the network drive. There were dozens of specimens, but the two that escaped…it was Zack and that kid Cloud he used to always hang around with.”

Tseng felt nauseous. He gripped the armrest on his seat until his knuckles were white.

“You were right to tell me.”

“I know it’s against regulations, sir,” Cissnei said, tears in her eyes. “But Zack was my friend. I can’t even begin to imagine what Hojo has been doing to him all this time. I can’t let them take him back in. And I know you cared about Zack too. I know this is treason…we’re going against the President’s orders. Please, sir…you understand, don’t you?” She looked up at Tseng, eyes glistening.

Of course he understood.

“We can’t let Hojo get to him before we do.” He agreed.

“I don’t know where they are,” she sighed. “But there were a few reports of sightings. I’m going to do my best to find them.”

“I can shield you from this,” Tseng said. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The reports Cissnei had were of two men matching Zack and Cloud’s description last seen along the eastern plains heading toward Midgar, so that was where they went, flying over forests and mountains, binoculars in hand, trying to catch sight of anything that might point them in the right direction.

All Tseng could think about was finding them before Heidegger’s men did.

He wasn’t even sure what they should be looking for. Would they be on foot? Chocobo? Would there be any others with them? On and on they flew with no sign, until suddenly, as Cissnei circled back around Midgar and east again, Tseng spotted a solitary man limping through the wastes surrounding the city, dragging himself forward step by step. It was a familiar shock of blonde hair that caught his attention.

“Look there!” He pointed.

Cissnei followed his gaze. “But where’s Zack?”

The answer came quickly. On a cliffside overlooking the wastes, there was an overturned Shinra military vehicle, dozens of bodies spread out around it, blood leaching into the dry earth beneath them, and at the edge of the cliff, a solitary SOLDIER with a mane of black hair, lying in pool of his own blood.

They were too late.

Cissnei brought the helicopter down to rest on the cliffside and Tseng jumped out before they had even touched the ground, rushing past the bodies of the dead infantrymen and falling to his knees where Zack lay on his back, one arm draped over his stomach, his face marred with cuts and scrapes, his body littered with bullets, his uniform soaked through with blood.

“Zack!” Tseng lifted him, cradling him against his chest. “No…no…open your eyes. Open your eyes, Zack!” He shook him, all of the logic gone from his brain, replaced by horrible, raw emotion. Fumbling with the materia in his gloves, he pressed his palm against Zack’s chest, willing the restore materia to help him, but it only glowed for a moment before deactivating again.

Unwelcome tears clouded Tseng’s vision. He held Zack against his chest and blinked them away, staring out on the horizon where Cloud, barely more than a pinprick in the distance, moved onward toward Midgar.

“Zack…” A horrible sob wracked Tseng’s body. Kunsel had tried to tell him…so had Aerith. They _knew_ he was still alive. And all this time he had been held in some horrible test chamber being poked and prodded and having Gods knew what awful atrocities committed against him. Five years of suffering and Tseng had done nothing to try and help him.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, clutching Zack’s body tightly against him. He was covered in his blood now, his face, his suit jacket, his shirt.

Cissnei stood a few feet away crying softly. Tseng cried with her. He couldn’t recall the last time he had cried. It had been more than a decade at least. For a few short hours, there had been a fleeting hope that they would find Zack and Cloud in time…that he could save them and make up for his inaction.

But Zack was dead, truly dead this time, and he felt partly to blame for it.

He couldn’t say how long he knelt there in the dirt cradling Zack’s body, expending all of his energy on his tears, but eventually he felt Cissnei’s hand on his shoulder and it shook him from his stupor. He wiped his eyes, swollen from crying, and looked up to find her in a similar state.

“We should dig a grave for him,” he said. “I can’t leave his body here like this.”

She nodded. The two of them set to work with the help of their materia, digging a hole just deep enough. They carried Zack’s body over to the grave and placed it gently within, covering him up and standing on either side of the mound that remained when they were done.

“I should have done something,” Tseng said softly. “I should have known.”

Cissnei squeezed his arm. “You couldn’t have known. None of us could have.”

It filled Tseng with such an unfathomable rage to consider that this was the result of the President funding pet projects, disregarding all that had been wrought by the SOLDIER project six years earlier. Rufus was no angel - he had plenty in mind for his reign when his father was deposed, but he would put an end to these wasteful, heinous experiments, that much Tseng was sure of.

It was too terrible to think of sweet, passionate, upbeat Zack shut away in a test chamber and tortured for five years. It was such a monumental waste of life. He had been so young, so optimistic and he had spent the last years of his life in a living hell.

“What do we do about Cloud?” Cissnei asked after some time had passed.

Tseng sighed. He picked up his phone and dialed Heidegger.

“Liu. What do you want?” Heidegger barked.

“Sir. I apologize for the intrusion, but as I was flying from Junon to Midgar today I found several dozen of your men slaughtered in the wastes.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. “What do you know about it?”

“Very little, sir. I thought I should report to you.”

“Who else was there?”

“There are two dead bodies in SOLDIER uniform, sir. We buried them. I know I shouldn’t have, but I knew them, sir. It felt wrong to leave them,” Tseng was doing his best to control his tone and keep his voice from warbling.

“Dead? Both of them?” Heidegger sounded more irritated than anything. He didn’t ask about the dozens of dead infantrymen.

“Both, sir. Were they fugitives?”

“Yes. Dammit,” he cursed. “Well fine. Write up a report about it for me and have it in my inbox by tomorrow morning.” He hung up without another word. Tseng pocketed his phone and exchanged a glance with Cissnei.

“We tell no one about Cloud.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I want you to track him down and find out where he ends up. He’s probably seriously injured. Make sure he gets medical attention.”

“Sir,” Cissnei nodded.

Tseng looked down at Zack’s grave and blinked away a few more tears. “I need you take me beneath the plate to the Sector 5 slums. You can go look for Cloud after you drop me off. I have to tell Aerith what happened.”

Cissnei climbed wordlessly back into the cockpit. As they lifted off and flew back toward Midgar, Tseng watched the grave, and the bodies surrounding it, grow smaller and smaller.

‘I’m so sorry, Zack. You can rest now.’

The sky was appropriately dreary as the helicopter approached Midgar and Cissnei piloted them beneath the plate. It had been just over a month since Tseng last checked in on Aerith, so he was overdue for a visit anyway, but now with the worst news imaginable. For the last five years, every time Tseng stopped by to check on her, Aerith had given him a letter addressed to Zack.

‘I know he’s still alive. Please give this to him when you find him.’

And Tseng had left the letters to pile up in a drawer in the apartment at headquarters, unopened. He had never shared her optimism, even though some part of him knew she must be right. She was so in tune with the planet - if she didn’t feel him there, maybe he wasn’t truly dead. It was a bitter pill to know she was right.

Cissnei dropped Tseng off a few blocks from the church in Sector Five and he wound his way through the streets, exhausted and numb. Several of the slumdwellers he passed stopped to stare at him. A Turk in the slums was enough cause for concern, but especially one covered head to toe in blood. He came to rest against the doorway to the church, looking in where Aerith sat kneeling in prayer in front of her flowerbed.

She had grown into a beautiful young woman over the past five years, just as fierce and stubborn as she had been as a child, though she had softened considerably to Tseng in the last few years. She was especially fond of Rude, who would sometimes check in on her when Tseng was preoccupied with his duties as leader of the Turks. They shared a love of nature, and Aerith’s mother even invited Rude in for tea on occasion.

There was no naivety amongst them, of course. It was easy to be fond of someone you spent a lifetime looking after, but at the end of the day Tseng’s job was to bring Aerith in to Hojo’s lab. When it came down to it, would she be hurt and experimented upon in the same way Zack had been? He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He had spent so much of his career watching over her: fifteen long years watching her grow from a remarkable little girl into an incredible young woman. There were times when he thought of her as a father might think of a daughter.

The President would want her back sooner than ever now that two of his specimens had gone missing.

Tseng stepped into the church and Aerith glanced up at him. The two of them stared at one another wordlessly.

“Aerith,” his voice broke as he tried to speak.

She was on her feet then, and before he knew what was happening, her arms were around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder as a sob wracked her body. For a moment, he was so shocked he didn’t know how to respond. Fifteen years of monitoring her and he was certain they had never touched before. Once his senses came to him, he squeezed her against him as new tears clouded his vision.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “He’s gone. I should have listened to you. You were right the whole time.”

Aerith peeled herself away from him, wiping her eyes and sniffling. “I felt him,” she clutched her hand to her chest. “I felt his presence in the lifestream. He’s at peace now.”

“They had him in a lab in Nibelheim,” Tseng began.

Aerith held her hand up to silence him. “Please. I don’t want to know what they did to him. I know what they did to my mother. I can fill in the gaps.”

She turned her back to him, returning to kneel by her flowers.

“Cissnei and I tried to find him before Heidegger’s men could get to him, but we were too late.” Tseng sat down in a pew at the front of the church and wiped away his tears. “We buried him on a cliff in the wastes. He fought hard to make it to you. I know that’s where he must have been headed.”

Aerith nodded solemnly and said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Aerith. I know that you loved him.”

“You loved him too, didn’t you?” She looked up at Tseng. “In your own way.”

Tseng nodded. “He was my friend.”

A prolonged silence followed. Tseng felt so raw. He wanted nothing more than to fly back to Junon and crawl back in bed with Rufus and undo this entire morning, but no matter how badly he wanted it, what was done couldn’t be undone. What kind of friend let someone die like Zack had?

“You’re not a bad man, Tseng,” Aerith said after some time, as though she were reading his thoughts. “You just do bad things.”

He wasn’t a good man either.

“I won’t be able to protect you for much longer, Aerith. The President has been growing more insistent about his pet projects. Soon there will be a day when you have no choice but to come in with us.”

“I know,” she said, plucking a white windflower from the ground and gazing at it for a moment. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to stay away.”

“You should,” Tseng urged.

“What would happen if you told them you wouldn’t bring me in?” Aerith asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were so unbelievably bright.

“They would kill me. And then they would send someone else after you.”

Aerith sighed sadly and rose to her feet. She held the windflower out and tucked it into Tseng’s breast pocket. “Thank you for telling me yourself…about Zack. I knew, but it means something that you came to tell me.” She pecked his cheek and took a few steps back. “You should go now.” She said it softly, but it wasn’t a suggestion.

Tseng rose on stiff legs and left her to tend to her flowers. Once he was outside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Reno.

“What’s crackin’, boss?”

“Reno. I need you to take care of a few things for me today. I’m going to be working from Junon. Something unexpected came up.”

“Sure thing. Where do you need me?”

His duties shirked to his second-in-command, Tseng hailed a Shinra helicopter and returned to Junon, falling asleep against the window on the way there as his exhaustion caught up to him. He had begun to type his report to Heidegger, but found himself welling up at the thought of it, and decided he would have to finish it at home.

Rufus wasn’t home when he arrived, but Darkstar greeted him with a wet snout against his hand. Tseng slumped to the floor and let the dog lick his face - something he always scolded Rufus for allowing - before dragging himself into the bedroom and peeling his bloodied suit off layer by layer. He set the windflower Aerith had given him on the end table next to the bed and moved sluggishly into the bathroom, standing for some time under the scalding water without giving much thought to scrubbing himself clean of the blood caked on his face and neck.

Over and over again, he kept thinking about how horrendous the last five years of Zack’s life must have been, how close he had been to safety, and how horrible his final moments were. A selfish part of him wished it had been Cloud’s body that they found. He didn’t know the boy as well as he knew Zack, and though he was glad at least one of them survived, he wished it could have been his friend.

He had begun to cry again without realizing it.

His skin sufficiently scalded, he finally set about ridding his face of Zack’s blood, scrubbing the sweat and blood from his hair. When he stepped out of the shower, his skin was a bright pink from the heat, and he didn’t bother dressing, falling onto the bed and curling under the covers. He would rest and rid himself of this horrible pain, and then he would get back to work.

* * *

Tseng awoke to Rufus’ hand on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered and he sat up in mild confusion until the sleepy stupor ebbed from his mind.

“It’s not like you to nap,” Rufus greeted him.

Tseng curled against Rufus where he lay beside him. “Zack is dead.”

“Reno told me. He heard it from one of your people.” Probably Cissnei. “Hojo was keeping him in a lab?”

“I should have listened to Aerith,” Tseng said miserably. “I feel responsible for this.”

“You didn’t lock him up and you didn’t gun him down,” Rufus said, stroking his still damp hair. “Torturing yourself over it won’t bring him back.”

He was right, of course.

Rufus kissed the top of his head and reached over to his night stand, where Aerith’s flower lay. “Did she give you this?”

“Yes.”

“You know, it symbolizes protection.”

“Of course it does,” Tseng sighed.

Rufus sniffed the flower and set it back down. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I will. I just needed to process it.”

“I have no interest in the girl,” Rufus said. “When we take care of my father, she’ll be put somewhere comfortable. No one will hurt her. I know you care for her.”

“I do,” he agreed.

“Soon, you and I will be the ones making the calls. For now, just bide your time.”

It was easier said than done. The President had been growing increasingly erratic with his demands. Tseng had a sinking feeling he would have to do much worse than what had been done to Zack before the President’s reign was over.

Tseng squeezed Rufus’ hand and Rufus pulled him against his chest and neither of them needed to say what they were thinking out loud. It could be felt without words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the emotional whiplash of a sweet domestic fluff chapter followed by...........this. Thank you all for reading and for your lovely comments! More soon!


	22. Deliverance

The report Cissnei sent Tseng after they found Zack’s body detailed that Cloud made it all the way to the Sector Seven slums, where someone appeared to recognize him and take him in to treat his wounds. That was enough to satisfy Tseng on the matter: the boy was at least alive. The less he knew about it after that, the better. He was already lying through his teeth to Heidegger about what they had encountered, he wasn’t about to implicate himself by knowing too much about the surviving specimen.

Any good Turk knew the best thing to do with an emotionally difficult situation was to stamp it down into its own little box in your head and compartmentalize it there, possibly forever. This was a source of constant frustration in Tseng’s relationship with Rufus, but it was a necessity in his job. Zack was gone. There was no bringing him back. The only thing Tseng could do was remind himself that the men and women working under him put their lives in his hands - he could not let them down in the same way.

Currently, they were dealing with a new crisis - one which Tseng was quite literally stuck in the middle of. AVALANCHE, in its newest iteration had been launching systematic attacks against Shinra warehouses and reactors, ostensibly tied to pro-Wutai insurgent groups springing up in the wake of still bitter post-war sentiment, but it had culminated when, a week earlier, a small cell of the group had blown mako reactor 1 to pieces.

Of course, Tseng knew the truth courtesy of Heidegger and his own employees. The President had provided a little help with the explosion to guarantee death and destruction and sow discord amongst the people. Tying violent terrorists to Wutai, whether they were truly violent or truly aiding Wutai, taught the people that Wutai-sympathizers were something to fear, something to keep them up at night. It was perhaps the first smart idea the President had come up with in ages, though both Tseng and Rufus questioned the wanton destruction of Shinra property as a means to an end.

It would set the stage for Rufus, however, who had returned to funding AVALANCHE behind his father’s back - this time directly - at Tseng’s suggestion. A year after their house arrest, they had come up with a plan together, and now it was reaching fruition. In a few days, Rufus planned to take care of his father once and for all, sever his ties with AVALANCHE, and use the leverage to stamp out any remaining Wutai sympathizers. Then he could run Shinra without any more interference.

Unfortunately, in the meantime, Tseng had to follow the President’s orders. He had become more insistent than ever that Tseng bring Aerith in for Hojo’s experiments and Tseng simply couldn’t drag his feet any longer. She still had to come of her own choosing, but as luck would have it, AVALANCHE had launched another attack, this time on the Sector Five reactor. Heidegger had been there in time to stop it, but there had still been an explosion and the members of the cell who attacked had still escaped. The explosion led to general disarray in Sector Five, which in turn was the best opportunity Tseng could find to send his men in and convince Aerith to come with them.

“Reno,” Tseng said as they sat in the Turks’ executive lounge. “I need you to do me a favor.” Tseng was looking over surveillance footage of the attack on Sector Five at Heidegger’s request. He wanted the names of the people the drones had captured images of.

Reno was stretched along the length of the couch chewing on a cigarette. Ever since Tseng had taken over for Veld, he never dared to light up in the lounge, but he always had one in his mouth.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“I need you to drop in on Aerith in the church. The President is growing inpatient.”

“Yeah, she’ll totally listen to me,” Reno laughed, but he still hopped up from his spot on the couch and sauntered over to the door. “I’m taking some flunkies. For intimidation.”

“Whatever you need to do.” Tseng didn’t look up at him. The truth was, he was ashamed of not dealing with it himself. Didn’t he owe Aerith that much? He justified it by telling himself he had important work to do for Heidegger.

After Reno was gone, Tseng focused his attention on the hundreds of images captured by the drones. The man with the machine gun grafted to his arm would be the easiest to find - how many people like that were wandering around Midgar? And he recognized the woman from a bar in Sector Seven that Reno and Rude frequented under the excuse that they were doing reconnaissance work, as if Tseng was too stupid to know what they really got up to. It was the third face that made his breath catch in his throat.

Cloud Strife was at the reactor with AVALANCHE.

Had he really escaped Shinra’s clutches just to come running back into harm’s way?

Tseng couldn’t fault him for it. Five years of torture and he might considering turning against Shinra too. What was he supposed to tell Heidegger? He knew who at least two of these people were and he knew exactly where to start searching, but a niggling voice in his head told him to keep it to himself, to stall. Was he really going to round Cloud up and bring him in when a week ago he had sobbed for hours over Zack’s death?

This job was starting to get to him.

He rubbed his brow and tried not to think about it for too long. He would start with a source in the slums to buy some time. But he hated dealing with Don Corneo more than anyone. And it wasn’t as though he could put Elena on that detail - he didn’t doubt she could hold her own against the Don’s flunkies but he didn’t like the idea of what they might do to her if she didn’t. He would send one of the lower ranking men to handle it.

As he was typing up a report to Heidegger and simultaneously drafting a command to send one of his men to get information from Corneo, his phone began to buzz against the tabletop.

“Rufus,” he answered.

He and Rufus had long since created secure cell lines to speak over, and Reno had helped him years ago to rewire the cameras in their offices and in the executive lounge to run on a loop to avoid being overheard. It had been a huge asset in keeping one step ahead of Heidegger, though if he ever found out, Tseng could imagine quite vividly what he might do to him.

“What are you doing?” Rufus asked.

“I’m writing up a report for Heidegger.” He considered telling Rufus about Cloud, but thought otherwise. Rufus had no connection to the boy - no, he was a man now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rufus drawled. “I just miss you. When are you coming home?”

“I could ask you the same.” Tseng didn’t think of Junon as home, despite the amount of time they spent there. Midgar had been his home for twenty years. Besides, the apartment at headquarters was more comfortable than the one in Junon. Maybe he only thought so because it was more accessible to his office.

“You know the plan,” Rufus said. “Can’t you spare a few hours and see me this evening?”

“I want to,” Tseng answered honestly. “But I can’t. Your father has been working me to the bone. All this nonsense with AVALANCHE.”

“You sound tense.”

That was an understatement.

“I am. Heidegger is breathing down my neck. And I feel like he’s just looking for an excuse to reprimand me. Ever since the incident with Veld all he does is try to catch me messing up.” Tseng didn’t often lose his temper, but there were some days he fantasized about doing some truly terrible things to Heidegger. He still bore plenty of scars across his chest and back thanks to Heidegger’s men.

“When I’m in charge, you’ll be the one giving him orders.” Rufus said it so casually, as though his success were all but guaranteed. Tseng believed in him, but he could never have half the confidence that Rufus had.

“Well for now I have to do what’s asked of me, regardless of how much I disagree with it.”

“It’s lonely in this apartment without you.” Tseng could almost _see_ the over-exaggerated pout on Rufus’ face. “D misses you too.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t. Now she has an entire half of the bed to herself.”

Rufus sighed. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

What Tseng would have given to be lying in bed with Rufus at that moment instead of dealing with the monumental headache of bringing Aerith in and apprehending Cloud Strife of all people.

“I love you,” he said softly into the phone.

“I love you too.”

* * *

Reno was carried into the executive lounge by two bewildered and very out of place security officers a few hours after Tseng had sent him to fetch Aerith. He had failed miserably as evidenced by the cuts and scrapes he’d sustained and the pronounced limp he was walking with. He fell dramatically onto the couch and snapped at the security guards to leave before they had barely let go of him.

When they were gone, he turned to Tseng and said,

“Well that was a shitshow.”

Tseng stared at him, lips pursed. “What did she do to you exactly?”

“Oh, not her. Some blonde freak claiming to be a SOLDIER.”

“Excuse me?” Tseng raised his eyebrows. “What did he look like?”

“Spiky hair,” Reno gestured above his head. “Mako eyes so I think he wasn’t lying about the SOLDIER thing, but he said he was a first, which is patently untrue.” He laughed loudly and then groaned and clutched his stomach. “Kind of scrawny but also muscular? He had this big-ass buster sword.”

Zack had a buster sword that had been given to him by Angeal Hewley.

“Did you get his name?”

“Uh yeah,” Reno rolled his eyes. “I asked right after he pummeled my ass into the ground. But don’t worry about it. I called Rude for reinforcement. The meathead and the girl got away, but he’s out looking for them. She’ll run home eventually and he’ll catch her there.” He waved a dismissive hand.

What the hell was Cloud doing in Aerith’s church? And claiming to be a SOLDIER?

This day just kept getting worse.

Tseng’s phone rang again and he picked it up, trying not to let his agitation show. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I need you in my office immediately,” Heidegger spoke on the other end.

“Of course, sir.”

Tseng pocketed his phone and closed his laptop, standing up from the table and groaning at the stiffness in his joints. He couldn’t really remember when he had last moved from his spot. He’d been too wrapped up in his work.

“Reno, get some rest.”

“Not a problem, boss.”

Tseng hurried out and took the stairs up a floor to Heidegger’s office. While he did share the floor with a few assistants and other key players, most of it was his, and decorated nearly as gaudy as the President’s office. Heidegger was and had been the President’s right hand man almost since the foundation of the company and as such he was afforded power and luxuries none of the other executives were. Scarlet came close, but that was because she was sleeping with the President - or so the rumors went.

Tseng dreamed of taking over Heidegger’s office one day and relegating him to a space in the basement, but it would never go that far. Even with Rufus in power, Heidegger wielded important control over the SOLDIERS, and his own status as a veteran was valuable to tactical input.

But Gods, Tseng hated the man.

Heidegger was staring out the window with his shoulders squared when Tseng arrived. Tseng waited to sit - Heidegger was all about power dynamics, and he wouldn’t abide anyone doing anything in front of him without it being an order.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Tseng made himself known.

“Take a seat, Liu.”

Tseng sat down in one of the chairs facing Heidegger’s desk and folded his hands in his lap. Heidegger turned around and observed him for a moment before taking a seat in his own chair and leaning back, a cruel grin on his face.

“Corneo sent me this,” he slid a box across the table. Tseng peered inside to find a severed hand resting on a bloodstained handkerchief. He didn’t allow himself to grimace, though the sight was upsetting.

“Unfortunate, sir,” he replied.

“He sent the information we wanted as well. The sewer rats we’ve been chasing have a home base in Sector 7.”

“I did have a man tracking a lead there as well,” Tseng said.

“Never mind that. The President wants them dealt with,” Heidegger growled. “And we’re not taking small measures anymore. He and I have come up with a solution that will quash any further uprisings from these pathetic dissidents and send an important message. We need your men to carry out the plan.” He sounded put out about it, but if it required discretion, even Heidegger knew a SOLDIER wasn’t the right man for the task.

“What plan is that, sir?”

“We’re going to drop the plate on those fucking mongrels.”

Tseng had been asked to do many truly horrendous things in his career as a Turk and never batted an eyelash. But this request made him falter. He was so taken aback that it took him a moment to respond.

“I’m sorry, sir. You want us to…destroy an entire sector of the city?”

“You heard me the first time, Liu,” Heidegger snarled. “There’s already a detonation sequence built in, all you have to do is have your men enter the code and get out of there before it blows. And don’t get any ideas about evacuations. That sniveling idiot Tuesti already tried to broach that subject and caught hell from the President.”

Tseng felt a cold ache settling in his stomach. Drop an entire plate? Destroy the sector? Murder tens of thousands of innocent civilians to send a message to one splinter cell of an anti-Shinra rebellion group? Bile rose in his throat and he choked it back down.

“If the President wants us to do this, we will do it,” he said, tempering his voice.

“The plan is for tomorrow night,” Heidegger said. “You had better keep tight-lipped about it.”

“Of course, sir.”

“When it’s over, your men will send out some plants to spread the word that AVALANCHE led the attack with aid from Wutai.”

There was the drop. This was a ploy to stir up sentiment against Wutai. The President had always been erratic - a poor leader at the best of times - but had he really lost his mind so completely that destroying an entire city sector was worth a slight gain against his enemies? It was brutish and tactless. The President didn’t care about the lives of so many citizens being quashed, but surely he cared about the billions of gil in losses.

“As you say, sir.” Tseng choked down his rage and waited for Heidegger to dismiss him.

“Make your arrangements. I want your best men on this.”

“Of course.”

He hurried out of the office, down the stairs and back into the executive lounge, slamming the door to his office behind him as he entered it. He heard Reno issue a startled exclamation before it shut.

This was too much. It was too far. At what point was enough enough?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Rufus with some difficulty - for the first time in years his hands were shaking.

“Missed me already?” Rufus answered.

“Rufus, your father is planning something heinous.”

Rufus must have heard the severity in his tone, because he didn’t answer with a usual quip against his father. “What’s going on?” Tseng relayed the news to him and waited several tense seconds as Rufus said nothing in response.

“Well?” He demanded.

“What the _fuck_ is he thinking? That’s not going to solve anything. He needs to send his men in there and drag every piece of shit that lives in that slum out of their home in the night until one of them breaks and gives away the rest of them. Wutai isn’t a threat, it’s a nuisance. One that could easily be dealt with if my father wasn’t so worried about playing politics so the people will kiss his feet. Drop an entire plate?” Tseng heard the anger rising in Rufus’ voice. “Unbelievable.”

Rufus wasn’t mourning for the people. He was mourning for the wasted money. Tseng had known Rufus far too long to think he was any less pragmatic than that. Not that Rufus reveled in class genocide - he simply didn’t think about the people beneath him much at all.

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” Tseng said. “We have to follow his orders.” He felt very close to being sick to his stomach.

“No,” Rufus agreed quietly. “You’re right.”

“Contact Reeve. Help him evacuate as many people as we can.”

“Of course,” Rufus responded with the alarmingly even-keeled voice he reserved for when he was absolutely frothing with rage. Tseng had never been on the receiving end of that tone, but he recognized it readily. It was terrifying to behold in person - a calm washing over his face as he plotted murder.

“It’s planned for tomorrow evening.”

“He couldn’t have waited a few days,” Rufus scoffed. “We’re going to have to accelerate the timeline on our plans. I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m sorry that he’s asked this of you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When they were done with their conversation, Tseng stepped into the lounge, where Reno sat on the couch expectantly.

“Reno,” Tseng said, a stone settling in his stomach. “Call Rude and tell him to return to headquarters. I’ll deal with Aerith tomorrow. I have a mission for the two of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end here fellas. One of my favorite things about the remake was confirmation of my long held headcanon (and fanon I think in general) that the Turks felt a lot of guilt over dropping the plate. 
> 
> Anyway thank you as always for reading! I have two long fics in the works when this is done so........more soon!


	23. From Evil

Everything was going to hell, or at least it felt that way.

As Reno and Rude made preparations for the destruction of the sector 7 plate, Tseng had the responsibility of finding Aerith and bringing her in once and for all. It was better that he be the one to do it - he had the longest relationship with Aerith, and frankly he felt he owed it to her, but it would not be a kind conversation.

Rufus was planning to arrive that evening in secret with Tseng’s help, with plans to finally take care of his father once and for all the next night. Tseng only wished it was before the order went out to destroy the plate. Reeve had already begun evacuations, and as luck would have it for all of them, Don Corneo had reportedly blabbed to more than one person about the plans, which he undoubtedly heard about from Heidegger so he could save his own skin. This was advantageous to Tseng and Reeve, because the evacuations appeared to be the result of Corneo’s loud mouth, taking any blame off of Reeve’s shoulders. The President would have readily pinned Reeve - the bleeding heart of the group, so to speak - if not for Corneo.

Unfortunately Corneo’s loud mouth now meant that on top of rounding up Aerith, Tseng was supposed to ‘take care’ of Corneo and teach his men a lesson.

It was going to be a busy evening.

His first stop was Aerith’s house, where he knew she wouldn’t be by that point. Reno and Rude had both been after her - it was unlikely she would stick around for Tseng - but he felt he owed it to Elmyra to be honest about what was about to happen. Fifteen years was too long to pretend he didn’t care for either of the women.

It had been a while since Tseng visited the house thanks to Aerith’s insistence that he only bother her when she was at the church. Elmyra and Aerith had spent years turning their home into a little paradise in the midst of so much squalor: a quaint cottage surrounded by a field of the most stunning flowers on the planet with the backdrop of a waterfall…even if it was waste water.

Tseng had brought a number of security officers with him below the plate in anticipation of potentially running into Cloud whenever he did manage to find Aerith, but he asked them to wait in the helicopter while he paid Elmyra a visit.

She opened the door before he could even knock, folding her arms over her chest and frowning at him.

“Aerith isn’t here,” she said.

“I know. May we talk for a moment?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it outside. You’re not coming in here.”

Tseng sighed. “You understand that I’ve stalled as long as I can. Please believe me when I say that I truly care about your daughter, Elmyra.”

“If you really cared, you wouldn’t still be after her.”

Everything could be so black and white with some people. As though it were so simple? His entire career was comprised of grey areas - killing people he didn’t think really deserved to die, torturing people who probably didn’t deserve it because that’s what Shinra asked of him. Aerith had been Tseng’s assignment until she had become someone he cared about. But he still had a job to do.

“I came here because I felt that I owed it to you to be honest about the situation. She will be back at Shinra Headquarters soon, whether you want it to happen or not,” Tseng said. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way. But that’s how it is.”

Elmyra’s eyes watered and she glanced up to keep her tears from falling. “Please. At least tell me that she’ll be taken care of when she’s there. That they won’t just…lock her in some test chamber.”

A lie was kinder than the truth. She would be released once Rufus was in power, but until then, Tseng could not promise her well being. It was too cruel to say that to Elmyra.

“She will be treated like a guest,” he told her. “With her own room and whatever food she likes. Hojo understands the importance of that at least.”

He knew that Elmyra knew he was lying. But she seemed to appreciate the gesture anyway.

“If I…were to give you letters for her,” Elmyra trailed off.

“I would be happy to act as intermediary,” he answered honestly. “For what it’s worth…I _am_ sorry.”

Elmyra shook her head and turned back inside, shutting the door in his face.

It didn’t feel good, but Tseng had never been one to expect others to accept his behavior. He had to do a lot of things that made others unhappy with him as a routine part of his position. It was unrealistic to expect Elmyra to welcome him into her home with open arms and thank him for kidnapping her daughter, even if he had delayed the events substantially with his stalling.

One task taken care of, it was time to pay Corneo a visit.

As the helicopter flew over sector six, there was visible commotion occurring at the border of sectors six and seven, people struggling against security guards trying to bar them in. Tseng understood the reasoning for the security officers’ presence, but wasn’t it cruel enough to topple an entire city sector without trapping everyone underneath the plate? He sincerely doubted the same security was present above the plate.

It was out of his hands now. Reno and Rude would set the detonation sequence and the sector would be gone. Any other outcome would mean his head on a silver platter.

Subterfuge was an important skill for a Turk, but Tseng wanted Corneo to know he was coming, if only to put the fear of the Gods into him. He had betrayed Shinra’s trust, but Tseng had a personal vendetta against the man. Even if he hadn’t killed one of his men and sent his hand back in a box, Corneo was slime. He was allowed to get away with all sorts of heinous misogynistic acts because he happened to funnel information, and money, into Shinra’s lap. If it were up to Tseng, he would have put a bullet between Corneo’s eyes himself. As it was, he was looking forward to his interrogation, which wasn’t something he ever thought he would say.

Tseng stepped out of the helicopter as it landed in the Don’s courtyard, flanked by security officers. He marched up to the door, where two men stood guarding the way. One of them, with silver hair and a remarkably young face, stepped aside with his hands raised.

“The Don’s all yours, crow.”

Tseng observed the other man, who was looking between the two of them with eyebrows furrowed.

“Leslie, man, you really just gonna fold like that?”

“I don’t mess with Shinra,” the man named Leslie said, folding his arms and taking a few more steps back. “I’m done with this shit.”

“What’s your decision?” Tseng asked, pulling his pistol from its holster and cocking it without any urgency.

“Fuck, man. I’m not gonna die for that bastard.” The other man stepped aside as well.

“Good choice.” Tseng nodded to the security officers and they swept in ahead of him.

The Don’s estate could only be described as tacky. It borrowed heavily from caricatures of what Wutai art and culture was meant to resemble, but it was a poor replica. Brass and gold seemed to adorn every surface, and the men standing at the ready in the foyer were decked out in expensive clothes, diamond earrings, gold watches. It was exactly the kind of ornamentation someone with too much money and no taste invested in.

There were four men in the foyer and Tseng didn’t give them the benefit of time. If they weren’t going to run, they were going to die. He fired a shot between the eyes of the closest one and he slumped to the floor. The security officers followed his lead, but they were utilizing assault rifles, which made so much more noise and mess. He sighed and frowned at the blood speckled across his pant leg as the other three men fell dead.

The commotion drew more men - and women- out from the surrounding rooms. The women were in bad shape, their skin bruised and clothes torn in ways that made it clear what the men were doing with them.

“Don’t hurt the women,” Tseng instructed the security officers. “Focus on the men.”

To their credit, they listened. Tseng and his men were outnumbered, but the Don’s men were the sort of brute force idiots he knew how to contend with. The room erupted in gunfire and he ducked behind a hideous wardrobe with brass trim and Wutaian inscription that was probably supposed to say something profound, but was really just nonsense. A few bullets burst through the back of the wardrobe as he ducked. He poked his head out, fired a few shots, and ducked back behind cover.

He didn’t have time to waste on these flunkies. With all this noise, the Don was undoubtedly making an escape attempt. Keeping himself tucked behind the furniture as long as he could manage, he made a dash for the stairs while the security officers dealt with the men. He felt a bullet rush past behind him as he ran, narrowly missing him, and then he was up the stairs and rushing down the hallway toward the Don’s office, where more men awaited him.

Two of them were carrying bags through a door along the back wall, and Tseng rushed after them only to be blocked by a hulking beast of a man who punched him square in the chest, sending him toppling backward as all the air left his lungs. He managed to have the presence of mind to roll out of the way as the man flung himself at him, then he scrambled back to his feet and fired off a shot that lodged in his assailant’s shoulder, which only seemed to anger him.

It turned into a chase around the room while the other men continued hurrying to help the Don escape. There was no way around it for Tseng - the monster attacking him was doing an excellent job of keeping him from where he wanted to be, and though Tseng had managed to hit him three times now, he must have been wearing a bulletproof vest or some other protective armor, because shots that should have at least slowed him had done nothing but enrage him.

Tseng fired off another shot, missed, and another, missed again as the man ducked, and finally, the third shot met its mark in the man’s temple and he slumped forward with his mouth open and fell face first onto the carpet.

Tseng’s chest was aching where he’d been hit, but he still rushed the door along the back wall only to find the Don’s room completely empty, with no sign as to how he and his men had escaped.

The President wouldn’t be happy, but the Don would be desperate now that he was on the run, which meant he would likely slip up sooner or later. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Tseng tucked his hair back into place and began to investigate the room for signs of a trap door. He didn’t have the time to waste going after Corneo, but he could at least figure out which direction he was headed and send some men after him.

The security officers arrived after a few minutes - their numbers halved - disheveled and sporting a few injuries.

“Sir, the threat has been neutralized.”

“Good,” Tseng didn’t look at them. He ran his hands over a hideous gold Wutaian dragon on the wall and tugged on it. As he suspected, a trapdoor opened at the foot of the bed. One of the security officers had been straddling it and he leaped back to avoid falling.

Tseng peered over the edge. A ladder descended below to the sewers, if the smell was any indication. He wrinkled his nose and frowned, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing Heidegger.

“What is it Liu?”

“Corneo escaped through a trapdoor into the sewers.”

He heard the grunt of irritation on the other end. “Couldn’t handle a two-bit pimp?” Heidegger growled.

“We were met with heavy resistance, sir,” Tseng replied coolly. “His estate has been neutralized, but I will need to send some men to search the sewers.”

“So be it.” Heidegger hung up without another word.

“One of you stay behind and help get the women to a shelter and tend their wounds,” Tseng said to the security officers. “The rest of you come with me.”

Aerith was next on his list, but he had no clue where she might be. He was having trouble getting a deep breath thanks to the pain in his chest, so he fumbled with the materia in his glove and pressed his palm to his chest. It eased the pain enough for him to calm himself and figure out what his next move would be.

His phone rang as he stepped up into the helicopter.

“Reno. What’s your status?”

“We’re getting ready to land, but there’s a lot of resistance along the pillar. Fucking rebels. Probably the same shitheads your boyfriend is funding.”

“ _Reno_.”

“Sorry, boss. We called to tell you we saw Aerith headed toward Sector Seven with some of those AVALANCHE assholes. You might want to head this way and come get her before the plate crushes her. Man wouldn’t that be ironic? The President makes this dickrag move to drop the plate and kills his precious specimen.”

“Reno, please,” Tseng sighed.

“Er…sorry. I’m not saying I want her to die or anything. _Shit!_ ” Bullets ricocheting against metal sounded through the phone. “Uh, we gotta go.” _Click._

Well, at least now Tseng knew Aerith was, and that was a good start, but time was more crucial than ever. He took the pilot’s seat and, once the security officers were strapped in, made his way toward Sector 7.

As soon as the chopper crossed the threshold between sectors, Tseng could see what Reno had been describing. All along the pillar men and women were exchanging fire with Shinra officers. Three choppers circled the pillar firing off short bursts against the rebels only to be met with grenades and bolt materia. Tseng steered well clear of the pillar, outside of the relatively short range of the rebels’ weapons. He had no interest in engaging them.

“Keep an eye out for a girl with a long braid in a pink dress,” Tseng told the officers.

“Yes, sir.”

As he steered the chopper over the sector, watching panicked citizens stream from buildings crying out for their loved ones so they could escape together, a Shinra-issue helicopter went careening out of control a few hundred yards in front of them, slamming into the ground in an explosion of fire and shrapnel that knocked back everyone within a fifty foot radius. And that was when he spotted her.

The blast had caught her and knocked her back several feet. She lay on her stomach, struggling to right herself, her pink dressed tattered and stained with dirt. She was mercifully alone.

“Sir!” One of the officers shouted.

“I see her.”

Tseng followed Aerith’s path around the wreckage into the large bar at the center of sector seven with a sign that read ‘Seventh Heaven’. This was the bar Reno and Rude frequented, where the woman from the security footage worked. What did Aerith have to do with AVALANCHE? And how was Cloud involved? Tseng had so many questions he wanted answered.

Aerith stepped into the bar and Tseng landed the chopper a few seconds later. It was now or never.

To his surprise and disappointment, his hands shook as he stepped out of the chopper, and an unpleasant feeling welled in his chest. He stopped short of the steps into the building and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Both he and Aerith knew this day would come eventually, but after fifteen years, it had begun to feel like it never would. He adjusted his tie, smoothed his hair into place, and stepped up to the door, throwing it open, the light from the helicopter shining into the bar.

Aerith stood next to one of the tables, a small child hiding behind her legs. She fixed Tseng with the fierceness he expected of her, eyes ablaze, brow furrowed, arm outstretched to protect the young girl standing behind her. She knew Tseng could and would use the girl as leverage if he got his hands on her.

“Aerith,” he spoke softly.

“Tseng,” she replied, jaw set tight.

“You should know that your options are limited.” He observed the girl cowering behind Aerith. She was very young, maybe four or five, and trembling as she clutched at Aerith’s dress.

For a few tense moments, Aerith and Tseng stared at each other while the security officers stood behind him on the deck with their guns raised. Aerith turned and knelt down next to the little girl, brushing some hair from her face and smiling softly.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, okay Marlene?”

“…okay,” the girl, Marlene, clutched at Aerith.

She picked her up, hugging her against her hip, and turned to face Tseng. “How about we make a deal?”

Tseng smiled. Aerith had always been a smart girl, the byproduct of growing up in a place as hostile as the slums and contending with the Turks for most of her life. He stepped back against the door and gestured to the helicopter. She walked past him, fixing him with a look of pure contempt, and let the security officers escort her to the helicopter.

And just like that, his longest mission was coming to an end.

Inside the helicopter, Tseng let a security officer take the controls and he sat facing Aerith, Marlene perched in her lap.

“What would you like me to do with her?” Tseng asked.

“Take her to my mother.”

“Who is she?” He asked.

Aerith pursed her lips and said nothing, running her hands through Marlene’s hair.

“Very well. Take us to headquarters first,” Tseng said, addressing the pilot. “Once you’re secured, I promise that Marlene will be delivered to your mother unharmed.”

“Good,” was all Aerith said.

The rest of the flight was spent in a stony silence. Tseng couldn’t blame Aerith for how she felt, but he also wouldn’t tell her how horrible he felt about what he was doing. They both knew it had to be done - his choices were as limited as hers were. If he failed to secure Aerith, Heidegger would do far worse than what had been done to him after the incident with Veld.

Aerith carried Marlene with her inside headquarters when they arrived. Tseng escorted them to his office, where there was at least a comfortable couch for Aerith to wait until she was handed over to Hojo.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Aerith attempted to hand Marlene over to him, but the girl cried out and clung tight to Aerith’s neck. “I don’t wanna go with the scary man!”

“Marlene,” Aerith said, stroking her cheek. “Tseng won’t hurt you. He’s going to take you somewhere safe, okay? I promise he won’t hurt you. Tseng,” she looked up, “Tell her.”

Tseng cleared his throat. “I am not in the business of hurting little girls.”

Marlene looked up at Aerith with watery eyes before looking at Tseng with skepticism, but she allowed Aerith to hand her over and Tseng took hold of her uncertainly. He had never been very good with children - that was Reno’s department. Marlene grabbed his neck and frowned at Aerith as tears started running down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Marlene. Your daddy will come find you soon, okay?”

Marlene nodded and sniffled, snot mingling with tears on her face. Tseng did his best not to grimace.

“Tseng?” Aerith met his gaze. “The plate. Why?”

Tseng shook his head. “I merely carry out the president’s orders.”

Aerith pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s bullshit.” She sat down on the couch and looked away from him, making it evident she was done with the conversation.

He kept his promise, delivering Marlene to a bewildered Elmyra, who agreed to take her and also offered Tseng a piece of her mind about the entire situation. He let her vent and curse at him and reaffirmed his offer to deliver any letters Elmyra wanted to write to Aerith in the future, and then he returned to headquarters to finish the mission and see Aerith to Hojo’s lab. Perhaps more than anything that had happened that night, he was dreading this the most.

When he returned to his office, security officer in tow, he was extremely dismayed to find Aerith in front of his computer shouting into the camera.

“You have to get out of there now! Hurry!”

“Aerith,” for the first time in fifteen years, he grabbed her with some force, pulling her away from the camera and into the waiting security officer’s grasp. She looked stricken, and whatever remained of her compassion for him died in her eyes.

He stepped in front of the camera to find the feed of the sector seven plate camera. Reno and Rude were gone and the detonation sequence was counting down. At the top of the pillar, the man with the gun arm, the bartender, and Cloud stood staring into the camera. There was no hint of recognition in Cloud’s eyes as he looked at Tseng’s face.

“You should listen to Aerith and get out,” Tseng said. “The sector in which you stand has been condemned.” He disconnected the feed and shut his computer off.

“I’m sorry, Aerith, but it’s time for you to return to the professor.”

Aerith glowered at him and said nothing.

Heidegger and Hojo both awaited them when they reached the entrance to Hojo’s lab. Tseng wasn’t allowed within. Few people had clearance to access his lab or the files related to his experiments. Frankly, Tseng didn’t want to know what went on in there. And if he thought for too long about what might happen to Aerith once she was turned over, it would kill him.

Ignorance truly was bliss.

There were no placating words on either side of the exchange. Nothing Tseng said to Aerith could make up for this and she had nothing left to say in the face of his betrayal. So he watched as Heidegger dragged her away into the lab. She didn’t put up a fight.

When she was gone, he made his way up to the tarmac. Rufus would be arriving soon and it was best if no one knew he was back in Midgar.

As he waited for Rufus’ helicopter to arrive, he stared out at sector seven and watched with a sense of dread and disgust as the explosion detonated and, piece by piece, an entire sector and tens of thousands of lives began to crumble, erupting in a cloud of smoke, destroying pieces of the surrounding sector, a quake rippling through the city at the impact of it. So many lives snuffed out in seconds just to prove a point.

And he had helped it happen.

There would be no redemption for him when his time was up. He had finally crossed the line. All he could do now was commit to the next step. Rufus would be in charge soon, he would make the necessary changes, make sure nothing this wasteful ever happened again.

His emotional baggage was bursting at the seams.

He looked away from the wreckage of sector seven and closed his eyes. There was nothing left to do but move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Tseng bb you're falling apart :(
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll be posting the final chapter on Wednesday :( :( :(


	24. Long Live the King

Tseng had deactivated the cameras along the route from the landing pad on the roof to the apartment in anticipation of Rufus’ arrival, but he only had ten minutes at most before they would reactivate. When Rufus stepped out of the helicopter, they greeted each other with a curt professionalism - it was an act they had perfected over the last six years. As long as they were outside of the apartment, they pretended there was nothing more to their relationship than superior and subordinate.

Darkstar was not as good of an actor however. As she leaped out of the helicopter, her whole body wiggled in excitement, pulling at her chain to try and greet Tseng.

“D,” Rufus tugged lightly on her leash and she heeled, coming to stand beside him, her little nubby tail still wagging.

Rufus followed Tseng silently into the building and waited to say anything until they were safely inside his apartment.

“I saw the plate collapse on my way in,” he said, shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the back of the door.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tseng said.

“Tseng,” Rufus pursed his lips.

“Don’t.” Tseng held up a hand. Rufus was not exactly an emotional man - he had his own traumas he never discussed - but he was constantly pressing the point of Tseng’s refusal to discuss the more gruesome and emotionally straining aspects of his job.

“If not with me, then when?” Rufus crossed the room to the bar cart and poured himself a drink.

Now free of her leash, Darkstar pressed her snout against Tseng’s hand insistently until he gave in and scratched behind her ears. He wouldn’t admit out loud that he had missed the dog too.

“There’s nothing to be done about it now,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. “It’s over. My men can’t take back what they’ve done. We just have to move forward.”

Rufus took a seat next to him, offering him a glass of wine, which he took even though his stomach was so tense he didn’t really want to drink. Sensing this, Rufus frowned.

“Drink. It will help your nerves.” Tseng took a sip and closed his eyes as Rufus rested his hand on the back of his neck and squeezed lightly. “I missed you. I would have preferred different circumstances to return, but my father needs to be dealt with. Tomorrow night I plan to strike. Can you and your men still help me cover my tracks?”

“Of course,” Tseng said. He took another sip of his wine and leaned against Rufus’ shoulder. Rufus drew his fingers idly through his hair as he did so.

“Then let’s not discuss it any further.”

There was a comfort in being alone with Rufus, even in the silence. More and more as the years went by, Tseng longed for a day when they could be more open with their relationship, not that he would ever be comfortable acting so unprofessional in front of their colleagues. But wouldn’t it be nice if the two of them could have a romantic dinner without pretending it was a business dinner? Tseng didn’t think it was asking too much. It wasn’t as though he wanted to stick his tongue down Rufus’ throat in front of Heidegger. He just wanted some aspect of their relationship to be less covert.

There was never a discussion of what came after he became President, but Tseng imagined there might be some relaxation of the strict guidelines they had followed for half a decade. As far as Tseng was concerned - as far as he had been concerned for years, frankly - he would spend the rest of his life with Rufus, regardless of what that looked like. It was naive to consider marriage as an option considering who Rufus was. They just didn’t talk about it. Their lives were not normal enough for that.

“Where are you?” Rufus spoke softly.

“I’m here,” Tseng replied. “Just exhausted.”

Rufus kissed the top of his head and said nothing. He ran his hand up and down Tseng’s side, sometimes sliding down as far as his leg.

“I could make you feel better,” he said softly.

“I don’t think so,” Tseng moved Rufus’ hand away from his leg. “I’m not in the mood.”

He didn’t have to wonder how Rufus could be. His solution to being frustrated or worked up was always to vent through physical exertion - sex just happened to be his favorite method of physical exertion. There were plenty of times when Tseng enjoyed that. Sex when he was worked up about something was always a little rougher, and something he looked forward to at the resolution of their infrequent fights. But Tseng didn’t deal with his emotions in the same way, he simply couldn’t. The last thing he wanted in that moment was sex.

“That’s fine. There’ll be time later,” Rufus said, sipping his drink. When he was finished, he set the glass down and rubbed Tseng’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

After the day he had, Tseng couldn’t argue with him. They walked together to their bedroom, Darkstar following close behind. Tseng’s entire body ached from the brawl in Corneo’s mansion and as he removed his clothes, Rufus inhaled audibly at the sight of the massive bruise covering his chest.

“What the hell is this?” Rufus asked, tracing his fingers lightly over it. Tseng winced.

“Just some trouble on the job.”

“You need to take care of yourself.”

Tseng rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. “You know what I do for a living, don’t you?”

“You’re lucky this didn’t break your sternum,” Rufus hissed, crawling into bed next to him. Darkstar jumped onto the foot of the bed and circled a few times before spreading out on top of Tseng’s legs. “D-”

“It’s fine, leave her,” Tseng shook his head.

They lay next to each other in silence. After a few minutes, Rufus said, “I’m allowed to worry about you, you know.”

“Of course you are.”

“So don’t act so flippant when you get hurt like this. I’ve almost lost you far too many times to count.”

Privately, Tseng had considered how either of them would fare without the other. Rufus, he felt, would have no trouble moving on if something were to happen to him. He would be sad, of course, but he was busy preparing to lead the planet as President of the company and there were no shortage of men and women throwing themselves at him daily.

Tseng didn’t think he would do well without Rufus at all. The thought of losing him sometimes consumed him, and was the source of frequent nightmares. He was the first and only man Tseng had ever truly loved, certainly the first real relationship he had ever been in. He couldn’t really imagine a world where he ever found someone else. Which was all the more reason to protect him. It had been years since he was Rufus’ bodyguard, but he still carried the task with him.

He rolled onto his side to face Rufus. “When this is over and you’re in charge then we can talk about all the things I’ve boxed up. Okay?”

Rufus kissed him and curled against him. “Okay. For now, get some rest.”

* * *

Reno and Rude were sporting some fairly serious wounds in the wake of their run-in with AVALANCHE at the sector 7 pillar. They sat with Tseng in the executive lounge, Tseng at his desk writing up a report of the evening, Rude at the table rubbing his temple, and Reno draped across the couch applying bandaging to his chest. He had taken the brunt of the damage during the scuffle and was looking much worse for the wear.

“Reno,” Tseng said without looking up from his work. “You need to take some time off after this. A few weeks.”

“Nah,” Reno grumbled. “I’m good.”

Tseng frowned at him and said nothing.

“Pardon my saying so, sir, but this mission was bullshit,” Rude said. Reno grunted in agreement. He had been so uncharacteristically silent since the two of them had returned that it unnerved Tseng. He understood their sentiment - he hadn’t agreed with the orders either.

“It’s not the first time we’ve had to carry out orders we disagreed with,” Tseng said. “If you’re feeling guilty, then consider that if it hadn’t been us, someone else would have been forced to do it. You’re simply sparing them the burden of that guilt.”

Reno scoffed and lay back fully against the couch. “Fuck that.”

“Voice these concerns all you want in here,” Tseng warned. “But don’t breathe a word of it outside this room. I am sorry for what you had to do. Consider instead how many souls have returned to the planet. Perhaps it’s a means for Shinra to balance the scales after all we’ve taken.”

“Do you really believe that?” Rude balked.

Tseng sighed. “Does it matter?”

“I can’t wait to watch Rufus gut his old man,” Reno said. “That asshole deserves the fucking torture chamber for this shit.” Tseng privately agreed, but said nothing. “Where is Rufus anyway?”

“He’s lying low in the apartment and waiting for an opportunity to deal with his father.”

“He should tell his dad you two have been fucking for half a decade before he shoots him. I’d love to see the look on his face,” Reno laughed and then groaned, clutching his chest.

A notification popped up on Tseng’s computer screen indicating an emergent situation in the building. He clicked on the notification and it brought up a message from the President to executive staff. Intruders had been spotted inside the building and a lockdown was in effect. No further information was provided. As though it weren’t pertinent for the leader of the Turks to have some knowledge of an intruder - particularly because he suspected the intruders were there to try and extract Aerith. He closed his computer and shoved it away from him.

“Something wrong, sir?”

“I need to speak with Heidegger. The building is going into lockdown, so stay here. And I’m serious about that leave, Reno. I’m not putting you back in the field until those injuries have healed.” He probably could have stood to get some therapy as well, but Tseng wasn’t going to suggest it.

He swept out of the office and found it was business as usual in the rest of the building. No one besides the executives had been notified of the intrusion, and though there was a lockdown, no one was aware of it or would be unless they tried to leave. Tseng swiped his badge to override the lock on the elevator and took it up a floor to Heidegger’s office, but he wasn’t there. He tried to call him but it went to voicemail. Typical that he would block him out like this.

He opted to stop by Reeve’s office and found him signing papers and conversing with his secretary. He briefly overheard a complaint about the plate collapse before he made his presence obvious and Reeve stopped talking immediately.

“Tseng,” Reeve greeted him cordially. “It’s not often that you pay me a visit.” Tseng observed his secretary and Reeve understood. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Certainly, sir.” She stepped out, leaving Tseng alone with Reeve.

“Did you receive the notification about the intruders?” Tseng asked.

“Yes, but no other information. I assumed your people would be dealing with it,” Reeve said, leaning back in his chair.

Tseng pursed his lips. “Heidegger has told me nothing.”

To the surprise of both men, Palmer came rushing in wheezing and winded, and leaned forward to brace himself against his legs. “Oh, thank the Gods. Heidegger and the President wouldn’t listen to me,” he huffed. “And then I tried to tell Scarlet, but I couldn’t find her anywhere-”

“Palmer,” Reeve held a hand up. “Wouldn’t listen to you about what?”

“ _Sephiroth_ is here,” he huffed. “I saw him with my own two eyes. Made me spill my tea. He was just waltzing through the halls with that sword of his…didn’t even look at me. I warned the President, but-”

“Sephiroth is dead,” Tseng said. “He has been for five years.”

“I know what I saw. Now are you going to do anything about it? Last time anyone saw him he burned down a whole town and killed a bunch of innocent people.”

“That’s classified information,” said Tseng, who had helped cover it up. “What do you know about it?”

“Who cares?” Palmer gasped. “He’s in the building. Probably got it out for more than a few of us, don’t you think? Heidegger laughed at me but I still saw the message he sent out.”

Tseng sighed. Whatever Palmer had seen had spooked him, though he doubted the veracity of any claims that Sephiroth was alive and walking around. If there was something stalking the halls, though, he would rather Rufus were out of harms way. He picked up his phone and dialed Rude.

“Sir?”

“I need you and Reno to ready a helicopter and get the vice president aboard. Circle the building for a bit. Just a safety precaution.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Palmer, could you describe in more detail what you actually saw?” Reeve asked.

“It was _SEPHIROTH_!” Palmer cried, exasperated.

Tseng and Reeve exchanged a look. Palmer was always excitable and it was getting to be late in the evening. Tseng believed that he thought he saw Sephiroth, he just didn’t believe that’s what it really was.

“I’m going to investigate. Stay put.”

He left Reeve and Palmer and made his way back to the elevator and up to the Intel Room to review security footage from that evening. Most of it was uneventful, though as he looked longer and longer, he noticed little glitches in the feed where the time looped back, covering up _something_. It took him almost half an hour of scouring the footage to find a feed that hadn’t glitched, but Sephiroth wasn’t what he saw on the feed. It was Cloud and the other two members of AVALANCHE who had been at the sector 5 reactor.

His phone rang and he jumped. Why was Hojo calling him?

“Sir?” Tseng answered.

“My specimen is loose again. I need you to put some men on this. Get her back here.”

What the hell was going on exactly?

“Aerith escaped?”

“She was taken. Along with another weaker specimen. If he must die, I don’t mind, but I need you to get the ancient back.”

Weaker specimen? Did he recognize Cloud?

“I’ll put my men on it, sir.” Tseng said. He had barely hung up his phone before it rang again. “ _What_?” He snapped.

“Bad night?” Rufus’ voice sounded on the other end.

“Rufus,” Tseng sighed. “I’m sorry. There’s something odd going on in the building. Did Rude and Reno extract you?”

“Yes, we’re circling in a chopper. I thought you might find it relevant that there’s an AVALANCHE helicopter approaching. I plan on shooting it down, but they’re here to extract someone. We heard it over their radios.”

“You’re going to shoot it down,” Tseng repeated.

“A message. I’m killing two birds with one stone. I plan to take over tonight, after all, and AVALANCHE won’t be getting any more of my money once I’m in charge. Besides, we don’t want whoever is wreaking havoc in my building to escape, do we?”

“Of course not.”

“Meet us on the roof. We’ll head them off.”

So AVALANCHE was trying to escape with Aerith and Rufus was destroying their only means of escape. There were a number of unknowns Tseng would need to deal with before the night was over. What the hell was Heidegger doing and why wouldn’t he answer his phone? Who had been messing with the video feed to cover up AVALANCHE’s trail? The three of them certainly hadn’t been so careful thus far, why start now? How the hell did they know Aerith?

It didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to help Rufus keep them from escaping, even though part of him wanted to let them go - Cloud and Aerith both.

He took the elevator up to the President’s office and staggered to a halt as he stepped out. Heidegger knelt next to the President’s lifeless body, blood pooling on the floor underneath him. Tseng had never seen Heidegger express an emotion that wasn’t anger or disgust, but he looked very close to tears as he examined the President, looking up in a sort of daze as Tseng approached.

“What happened here?”

“I don’t know,” Heidegger answered. “Palmer claims he saw Sephiroth.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes,” Heidegger’s voice caught in his throat. Tseng had meant Sephiroth, but Heidegger was clearly talking about the President. He had been the President’s closest confidant for decades.

Tseng looked down at the President’s bloody, lifeless body and felt a strange sense of relief. Whoever had done this, it wasn’t Rufus, which meant plausible deniability. The entire plan for the last few months had been for Rufus to kill his father and the Turks to cover his tracks. Now someone else had done the work for them.

He didn’t feel the same grief Heidegger was clearly dealing with. He never liked the President much, even before he had pledged his loyalty to Rufus. He glanced past the two of them out the window to the landing pad and saw AVALANCHE running along the tarmac with Aerith and a creature from Hojo’s lab. A moment later there was the sound of gunfire and a helicopter went careening past the window toward the ground.

“Sir,” Tseng turned his attention back to Heidegger. “You need to secure the exits. I will try to deal with these intruders here, but their escape route has been cut off and if they manage to bypass me, they’ll head back down. Your men should barricade the doors.”

Heidegger looked away from the President and shook away some of the shock. “Are you giving me orders, Liu?”

“I am merely making a suggestion,” Tseng said.

Heidegger knew Tseng was right - in any other situation, it would have led to a very serious reprimand - but this was urgent. He pulled himself up off the floor and stalked across the room to the elevator.

“I’ll handle it.”

Once he was gone, Tseng stepped past the President’s body out onto the roof. Reno was landing the helicopter, the door sliding open as a few security officers leaped out onto the landing pad. Rufus appeared in the doorway after them. A few yards away, AVALANCHE had paused their escape and Cloud was exchanging heated words with the man with the gun arm. Aerith and the other woman noticed Tseng as he made his way across the tarmac.

“Tseng,” Aerith held her staff out. “Stay out of our way.”

“I’m here to assist the vice president,” he said, stepping aside. “You are not my priority any longer.”

Aerith’s face softened in surprise.

“Get them out of here!” Cloud yelled. “I’ll buy us time.” He ran forward to face the security officers on the landing pad while the man with the gun arm and Hojo’s specimen joined the women.

“What’s this Turk fuck doing here?” The man asked, training his gun on Tseng.

“Barret, don’t,” Aerith grabbed his arm.

“Go,” Tseng said. “My colleagues will not be as generous.”

They didn’t wait to be told twice, rushing past him back into the building. Aerith glanced back at him one last time and then they were gone. Maybe Heidegger would apprehend them downstairs and it would be a wasted effort, but he didn’t care. He had made so many mistakes in the President’s name, but the President was dead now. Rufus was finally in charge.

Cloud made quick work of the security officers. For his false claims to Reno that he was a SOLDIER, he was certainly strong enough to be one. This was not the same boy who had barely been able to carry him through a small town five years prior.

Rufus stepped out of the helicopter with Darkstar at his side wearing a smirk, his shotgun in hand. Tseng knew he did love a good fight, though he didn’t often get a chance to engage with Shinra’s enemies so directly. Tseng disliked the idea of him fighting one on one with Cloud - whatever Hojo had done to him over the last five years, he was an unknown variable - and Tseng simply didn’t like the idea of Rufus ever being in danger. Reno and Rude were too injured from the night before to assist him, but Tseng stood at the ready, his hand hovering over his pistol, hoping to the Gods he didn’t have to use it on Cloud.

They engaged in battle quickly, Darkstar switching instantaneously from the sweet and loving dog Tseng knew at home to the guard dog she had been bred to be. Rufus was a remarkably graceful fighter. His movements were swift and fluid, easily deflecting Cloud’s strikes with the buster sword, letting them glance off of his shotgun before returning fire and knocking him back a few feet. They looked like dancers the way they moved across the tarmac, Darkstar following Rufus’ every lead. But Cloud was competent too, far more than he had ever been when Tseng knew him. He held the buster sword as though it weighed nothing at all, swinging it with full force and managing to catch Rufus more than once, which made Tseng wince.

Rufus was toying with Cloud, goading him on with little flirtatious asides as they fought. It was so quintessentially Rufus: cavalier in the face of serious dangerous, flirting to throw his enemy off guard. Rufus had never once been unfaithful since he and Tseng had confessed their feelings for one another, but he could simply never turn off his charm, even with people he loathed. Tseng was used to it.

“D, to Tseng,” Rufus shouted. Several minutes of exchanging blows had left Darkstar wounded and she was slowing down. She had done what she could and on his orders, she ran past Cloud to where Tseng stood by the doorway. Cloud glanced back at her briefly, but again there was no hint of recognition as his eyes scanned past Tseng.

“Good girl,” Tseng said, grabbing Darkstar’s chain and bending down to apply materia to her injuries. She leaned heavily against him and whimpered.

The fight continued and not once could Tseng have said who the victor would be. His stomach was tense watching the two men move. Overhead, Reno moved the chopper in preparation to assist if Rufus was compromised.

And then Cloud’s sword swung up and knocked the gun from Rufus’ hand. It went clattering across the tarmac and slid off the edge of the roof.

Tseng picked up his phone. “Get him out of there, Reno.”

“Got it, boss.”

“I could end this here and now,” Cloud said.

“Not quite,” Rufus took a few steps back and then, as though he had planned it from the start, he grasped on to the edge of the helicopter as it lifted up behind him. “This was fun. We’ll have to do it again some time.” Then Rude was hoisting him into the helicopter as it flew off around the other side of the building.

Reno let off a burst of fire beneath Cloud’s feet and the grating on the edge of the launchpad collapsed. Cloud shifted backward and just managed to grab the edge of the roof as the platform gave way and went plummeting down the side of the building. Almost instinctively, Tseng lurched forward - he couldn’t just let Cloud fall to his death - but before he could move, someone rushed past him, taking no heed to his presence, and slid across the tarmac to grab Cloud’s hand before he lost his grip.

It was the woman from the bar.

“Tifa!” Cloud gasped.

“I’ve got you!”

For such a small woman, she possessed a remarkable amount of strength, pulling Cloud up onto the safety of the roof and falling back with a gasp. When they had both righted themselves, she slung an arm around Cloud’s waist and helped him walk back toward the door, both of them coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of Tseng standing in their way with Darkstar at his side.

“I’m not going to fight you,” he said.

“Then get out of our way,” Tifa glared at him.

“Cloud,” Tseng fixed him with a hard stare, “Do you…not remember me?”

Cloud stared back at him for a moment, then he clutched his head and leaned forward, wincing and struggling to stay upright. Tifa exchanged a glance with Tseng and he understood.

Something was very seriously wrong with Cloud. Undoubtedly the byproduct of whatever Hojo had done to him for the past five years.

“Are you okay?” Tifa asked.

Cloud righted himself and shook his head. “Tseng,” he said.

“So you do remember.”

“You broke your leg.” He was still wincing. “I helped you set it and then…we went to Modeheim and I brought Hollander in for you.”

No. Zack did.

“You and-”

“Please,” Tifa interrupted. “We don’t have time.”

Tseng nodded. “Then go. But be warned you will encounter trouble below.”

The two of them took off without another word and Tseng watched them go wordlessly. What was wrong with Cloud’s mind? What had been done to him to make him snap like that? He didn’t really want to dwell on it. Once they were out of sight, he had Reno bring the chopper back down and he moved to meet Rufus as the door opened.

He was sporting a number of wounds, blood blooming through the fabric of his coat on his shoulder.

“You’re injured,” Tseng said, his hands already on the buttons of his coat.

Rufus laughed weakly. “Always a mother hen.”

Tseng pursed his lips, but Rufus let him tend to the wounds while Darkstar nudged against his side.

“Your father is dead.”

“What?” Rufus’ eyes widened.

“I don’t know if it was AVALANCHE or someone else. Palmer is running around claiming to have seen Sephiroth. The injury is certainly consistent with a longsword of some sort.” Tseng peeled Rufus’ shirt away and pressed his hands against the gash on his shoulder to activate his restore materia. Rufus winced.

“You’re sure he’s dead?”

“Completely. He’s inside if you want to see him.”

Rufus curled his lip. “Just get rid of the body. How thoughtful of someone else to deal with this mess for me,” he laughed. “Good fucking riddance.”

To Tseng’s immense surprise, Rufus grabbed his chin and kissed him so forcefully he almost staggered backward. When he broke away, Tseng’s ears and neck were warming with embarrassment.

“Rufus, the cameras.”

Rufus only laughed again. “Let them see. There’s nothing they can do about it. I make the rules now.”

“All the same,” Tseng said, buttoning his shirt back up and handing him his coat. “Not while I’m working.”

“Oh, lighten up, Tseng. This is the best night of my life.”

“We still need to deal with the problem at hand,” Tseng said. “Something killed your father whether or not it’s still in the building. And there’s the matter of AVALANCHE and Aerith.”

“So send some men after them,” Rufus brushed past him and walked into the office. He came to a halt in front of his father’s body and stared down at it with nothing more than disgust. “We’ll need this cleaned up.”

Tseng was already notifying some of his men. Reno and Rude stepped inside and slowed to a halt at the sight of the President’s body.

“Whoa, boss, you already take care of it?” Reno asked.

“Someone else did,” Rufus answered. “Lucky us.” He stepped over to the window and glanced outside. “Call the executives up.”

“Heidegger is currently dealing with the intruders,” Tseng told him. He turned to Reno and Rude. “Go and round up the others. Tell them the President has called a meeting. No need to tell them about the exchange of power. They’ll know when they arrive.”

“You got it, boss,” Reno and Rude disappeared into the elevator.

Tseng waited for a moment until his men arrived with a bodybag and supplies to rid the office of any evidence of the President’s death. He would need to review the security feed to see what had actually happened, but he had a sinking suspicion the evidence would be missing when he went looking for it.

Could it really have been Sephiroth?

“Tseng,” Rufus said from his spot by the window. “Come over here.”

The lower-ranking Turks carried the body into the elevator and once they were gone, Tseng moved to stand next to Rufus, following his gaze out the window to look out on the city below them.

“It doesn’t quite feel real,” Rufus said. “He’s finally gone.”

Rufus often grew frustrated with Tseng for his unwillingness to discuss how his job affected his emotions, but Tseng grew equally frustrated with Rufus’ inability to broach the subject of the emotional abuse his father had inflicted upon him for his entire childhood, to say nothing of the grief and trauma of losing his mother at his father’s hands. He never discussed his past, except to state his distaste for his father loudly and often.

“The planet is better off for it,” Tseng said. He placed a hand on Rufus’ shoulder, the boldest he had ever been in the presence of a security feed.

“I hated him, but he also built this company into what it is before he started wasting money on frivolous wars and wanton destruction. It feels…bittersweet. Part of me wishes I could have done it myself. I’ve dreamed so often over the years of choking the life out of him.”

“It’s better this way,” Tseng said. The elevator door sounded behind them and Tseng dropped his arm to his side. “Wait here.”

Palmer was the first to arrive, wringing his hands as he tiptoed up to the empty presidential desk. Tseng greeted him and came to stand just behind the desk with his hands behind his back.

“We’ll wait for the others,” he said.

“Where is the President?” Palmer asked.

Tseng said nothing.

Reeve was next. “Tseng. What did you find out?”

“The President is dead,” Tseng answered. “Rufus Shinra will be taking over in his stead.”

“Dead?” Reeve repeated.

“Yes. Murdered. We haven’t found the culprit, but the security footage should assist us in that department,” Tseng explained.

“I’m telling you, Sephiroth was here!” Palmer shouted.

“Palmer, do not mention it again,” Tseng said sharply. Palmer was technically his superior, but he’d had enough, and Palmer was subservient enough that he only shrunk down in response.

Scarlet was next to arrive, with Heidegger in tow. Tseng was not surprised - he assumed Heidegger would tell Scarlet what had happened.

“Those sewer rats escaped. My men are pursuing them along the highway,” he said by way of greeting.

“Very good,” Tseng replied.

Heidegger glanced back to where Rufus stood by the window and brushed past the desk to address him. Tseng waited a moment, observing the interaction before he intervened.

“Mr. Vice President,” Heidegger said.

Rufus did not acknowledge him.

This was the moment Tseng had been waiting for since Heidegger’s men threw him in an interrogation room and beat the life out of him five years earlier. The exchange of power had already occurred. Heidegger was his superior only in title now. He would be answering to anything Tseng asked of him because of Rufus’ loyalties.

Neither Tseng nor Rufus had forgotten or forgiven what happened.

Tseng stepped across the room and stopped directly across from Heidegger. “Mr. President.”

Rufus turned away from the window and looked Tseng up and down, the corners of his lips turning into the faintest hint of a smile.

“That’s right.”

He swept past Tseng toward the presidential desk. Tseng and Heidegger exchanged a tense glance full of meaning. They both understood where the power lay now.

Tseng followed Rufus and stood behind the desk facing the four executives lined up before them.

“This is new era for Shinra,” Rufus said. “My father is dead. If anyone here has even the faintest idea about challenging me, I have some very loyal men willing to rid you of the burden of your power.” He folded his hands in front of him on the desk. “Or you can pledge your loyalty to me and we can get to work.”

The executives were silent.

“Reeve. I want plans on my desk tomorrow for clean up of the mess my father left in sector 7. I won’t waste valuable money on full reconstruction, but we can at least utilize the space and cleanup that eyesore. Palmer, I need you to get me the names of your best airship pilots. Scarlet, I want a full briefing on every prototype you have in development. Heidegger,” he paused for a long moment and fixed Heidegger with a hard stare. “I want the men who tortured the Turks put in interrogations rooms and taken care of. By your hand.”

“Sir…?” Heidegger balked.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, sir,” Heidegger clenched his jaw.

“If you have need for the Turks’…unique capabilities, you will consult me beforehand. Mr. Liu will be taking on some additional tasks under my leadership and I don’t want you wasting his or my valuable time. Am I understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

The executives left, Heidegger and Scarlet first, then Reeve and Palmer. Rufus placed his palms flat on the smooth marble desktop and sighed contentedly. “It’s only a shame Heidegger is so useful, otherwise I’d let your men beat the shit out of him and throw him in the incinerator.”

Tseng remained behind Rufus’ chair. “Perhaps when he outlives his usefulness.”

“I need a report from you about my father’s murder. I’m more concerned about who did it than how it happened.” Rufus stood up and walked back over to the window. “Join me, Tseng.”

Tseng stood next to him and Rufus moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin against Tseng’s shoulder. It felt odd to be able to display that level of affection outside of the apartment - in the President’s office of all places. Rufus pressed his lips lightly against Tseng’s neck.

“Look at the city. It’s ours now.”

“Does it feel like you hoped it would?” Tseng asked, leaning into Rufus’ touch.

“Even better. Once we clean up my father’s mess, we can set our sights even higher. Give me another year, Tseng. We’re going to rule the world.” He said it with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.

And Tseng believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this ending to be sort of bittersweet because I think their relationship is bittersweet. Rufus is so optimistic, but we know the truth of what's on the horizon.
> 
> Honestly it's hard to believe this is over. I started this fic just desperate to write a story about Tseng and Rufus after seeing That Scene in the remake and it turned into this big beautiful thing. I'm really grateful because through this fic and this ship I've met a lot of really amazing people and I'm so happy to be a part of this little shipping community. You all are so wonderful. 
> 
> Thank you so so very much to everyone who has read and commented on this fic. As I said, I have a new longfic on the horizon that I've started writing and will start posting in a few weeks probably. And as a reminder I'm on twitter @NemiAlmasy. Thank you again!


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